


Love is Stronger than Death

by MadeOfThoughtsAndStardust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Drinking, Gen, M/M, Mild torture, Panic Attacks, Tricksters are tricky, expect lots of angst, lots of humor, psychiatry, with occasional crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeOfThoughtsAndStardust/pseuds/MadeOfThoughtsAndStardust
Summary: A hunt for a trickster goes awry and leads the Winchesters on an adventure they never thought they’d be taking. Now they’ve got a trickster and a god tagging along with every intention of driving them insane. At least some things never change: hunting was the name of the game and the Apocalypse needed to be stopped.Except....it's never that easy, is it? Especially with Winchesters involved.





	1. Crazy Babies

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the newest tale—one that begins with a hunt for a non-angelic trickster and ends, well, that’s for you to find out, isn’t it? Enjoy!  
> This is basically an AU set in early-to-mid season 3 with the slight issue of assuming the boys already know that angels needs vessels but not that they are vessels (or that killing Lilith lets Lucifer free), including the whole Dean-goes-to-the-theoretical-future deal (5.04 The End). We’re assuming Sam got away from the Chosen Children Camp without dying and Dean’s not headed to Hell. That’s the main info bleed, but you may catch one or two more if you’ve, y’know, watched it all more recently than I have (also note that I’ve only seen up to 7.01 and I was inebriated when I saw that, so anything beyond that doesn’t exist for me). And if you don’t like OCs, don’t worry—the non-angelic trickster won’t be around long. (Helllllooo, female character, especially monster, in Supernatural? Definitely not going to last.) Our favorite trickster will definitely be sticking though. (Er, I should also mention that I never intended this to be Gabriel-centric or Sabriel but it somehow ended up as both with some Destiel just for kicks? Dunno, but I’m not gonna complain if you don’t.)
> 
> This is unbetad. I've read over it once to check for grammar and such, but please reach out if you catch something so I can fix it.
> 
> Well, that was the longest author’s note ever. Get on with the readin’ if I haven’t scared ya off, eh?
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

Chapter 1: Crazy Babies

 

_No use talkin 'bout if they'll last_

_Where they're goin' or about their past_

_They're just the result of our Society_

_So frustrated just like you and me, that's right_

_Nobody's gonna change them, change them_

_They've gone over the top_

_Nobody's gonna tame them, tame them_

_They're never gonna stop_

…

 

It wasn’t everyday that the boys ran into a trickster. Truth be told, they’d only run into one and hadn’t even heard of any hunters in their extended network running into others. Bobby was of the wise theory that there simply weren’t any others.

 

From the sting of yet more freezing cold drops of sugary rain, however, the boys new otherwise. Sam pushed his sashed hair back out of his face.

 

“Whatever damn deity made tricksters was a friggin’ lunatic,” Dean muttered behind him. He wanted to find the damned trickster and gank her before she did anything more harmful than the tricks she’d done so far, but they weren't having much luck. It had been four days since they’d first identified her and, although they were reasonably certain they were on her trail now, Dean had the sinking feeling that this wasn't going to end easily for them.

 

…

 

“The ritual should summon her easy enough and it'll keep her from going anywhere, but the barrier’s two ways, son. You won't be able to touch her either,” Bobby informed the brothers on speakerphone,

 

“That's more than we’ve managed so far,” Dean grumbled, pulling open a bag of chips.

 

“Do you have any other books on the topic we can use, Bobby? There's got to be something,” Sam asked.

 

“Nothing specific, but I'll be there in a few hours and you can take a look, okay? I’ll leave the books with you before I head out. And you boys better damn well have coffee ready this time.”

 

“We will, Bobby. See you soon.”

 

…

 

A snap of small fingers and suddenly there was a glittery 20-layer cake worthy of the largest wedding. The trickster smiled and sat up in her seat before cutting a piece and beginning to eat. The monitor she was watching assured her that the foolish hunters that were after her were nowhere near the building. They'd been fun for a few days, but she was ready to send them off or, if she couldn't, move on herself.

 

She was just reaching for another piece when she vanished from her seat.

 

“Oh, hells,” she exclaimed, looking out of the barrier that trapped her. “Now, boys, was this really necessary? If I'd known a simple, pretty thing like me could drive you to such extremes, I would've left.”

 

“Right,” Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Just like you'd never cause enough trouble to get us here in the first place.”

 

“It isn't my fault that my tricks gain attention sometimes. I'm a _trickster_ , we’re flashy by nature,” the trickster pointed out, small arms crossed over her chest. “Speaking of, newflash boys: I may not be able to do anything just now, but you can't either and these barriers aren’t made to last long.”

 

“Don't worry, sweetheart, we’ve got a surprise waiting for you once the barrier falls. You aren't getting out of here,” Dean assured her, lazily examining a birch stake. Bobby said a different text indicated a victim’s blood wasn’t needed, so the stake was clean. The trickster’s grin didn't falter.

 

“A surprise for little old me? And to think I didn't get you anything,” she taunted back, sitting abruptly on the floor before pulling a candy bar out of her pocket. “The really unfortunate thing is that I didn't have more sweets on me when you summoned me. Oh, here's an idea! Why don't we _not_ summon others unprepared? It's incredibly rude.”

 

A look from Sam prevented Dean from replying. With Bobby’s help, they'd set a trap that would last exactly 50 minutes and he didn't intend to listen to them bickering that whole time. Instead of arguing, Dean passive-aggressively extracted an extra large bag of peanut M&Ms from his pocket and began munching on them as he went to help finalize the plan. They were reasonably certain based on Sam’s translation of the text that there would be a ten second interval in which they could cross the barrier but she could not. Ten seconds would be more than enough for them to finish her.

 

Seeing the look the younger one shot toward her, the trickster knew she was probably in a good deal of trouble. She was familiar with the spell and she knew she would have to be fast enough to avoid their stake until she could escape. She thought, for once, that her size was an advantage—at _almost_ five feet tall and thin as a reed, they would have difficulty getting her if she condensed herself enough. She worried, nonetheless. These spells tended to act oddly and it was possible that instead of the physical borders weakening, the whole field would instead and they would be able to go after her without restriction. She restrained her shudder and pulled out her last candy bar.

 

“It really sucks that my last sweet is dark chocolate. It isn't even worth _calling_ a sweet,” she complained with a sigh. Sam and Dean both looked up before sharing a look and returning to their work. They both knew she was just trying to get enough pity to save herself. She noticed that her try didn't work and laid down, staring at the ceiling in thought.

 

Half an hour after, she sat up and looked at the brothers again.

 

“Say, you ruggedly handsome boys, why don't you let me go and I'll whip up a treat for you and then leave? I'll tone my pranks down a bit, even if they’re already the laughingstock of the trickster community. Scout’s honor,” she offered.

 

“We aren't making a deal, bitch,” Dean informed her, picking his nails with the point of the birch stake. Her expression soured.

 

“So very rude. You could've just said no,” she muttered, arms crossed over her chest again. “I take it the ‘night of your dreams’ offer won't work either? Fine. Can I have some of your candy before you off me?”

 

“We aren't going to have time to do that,” Sam pointed out, beginning to feel a bit bad. For all that she was a trickster, she hadn't killed anyone as far as they could tell and she was so small and harmless looking he could hardly help the pang of pity her coming demise caused.

 

“You're right. Thanks anyway,” she sighed, laying back down. Sniffling noises made San glance up again, but he returned his attention to his book as quickly as he could. Pitying the monster they were about to kill wouldn't do anyone any good. A sudden gasp five minutes before the barrier was scheduled to break, however, made him look up. The trickster had her phone out. After looking at it for a minute, she met Sam’s eye with a smile. “Now you're in trouble.”

 

“You're the one about to be ganked, sister,” Dean muttered, hardly looking up. The trickster laughed freely enough that Dean began to feel concerned. “Why do you think we're going to be in trouble, anyway?”

 

“Because she knew I wouldn't leave her to the mercy of two chuckle-heads like you. It would be bad for the name of the trickster community,” a male voice answered, making everyone look up. Sitting in the rafters was the trickster the boys had met before, smiling smugly down at them. “Doing okay down there, Ase?”

 

“As well as could be expected, sweetums. They weren't even going to give me a last meal,” she answered before turning her attention back to the brothers. “You thought I was trouble. Try handling an irritated Loki.”

 

“ _Loki_? The trickster that gave us so much trouble before was friggin’ _Loki_?” Dean ground out in surprise.

 

“That would explain why he was so hard to kill. He's around the top of the trickster hierarchy while also having the skills and privileges of a Norse deity,” Sam reasoned, his fingers tightening around his birch stake, hidden under the table. A good shot once the trickster was distracted would do it.

 

“Oh, no, none of that, bucko,” Loki said before the birch stake was suddenly gone, replaced by a giant candy cane. Another snap and Loki was standing just beside the other trickster inside the barrier. “I've missed you, cutie pie.”

 

“Not as much as I've missed you, sugar plum,” Ase replied, looking up in Loki’s arms to accept his kiss. “Can you get us back out or do we have to wait? We've got ten minutes or so if the second and forever if the first.”

 

“ _Gross_ ,” Dean muttered from the other side of the barrier, his gaze entirely too sharp to make it seem like he was really distracted.

 

“We’ll make quick work of getting out of here. There are better audiences if we want one,” Loki replied after a moment’s deliberation. When he snapped his fingers, however, nothing occurred. Another attempt produced the same lack of results.

 

“Ha! Looks like we've got both of you now. Sammy, go get another stake and you can gank Loki,” Dean exclaimed. Sam nodded and left the room eagerly and quickly.

 

“What's the problem, honeybun? I thought this magic didn't work on you,” Ase asked concernedly, frowning up at the man beside her.

 

“The barrier’s stronger than usual. I'll try again once it weakens a bit and we’ll be out of here. Don't worry your sweet little head,” Loki assured her, drawing her into an embrace again. She looked up at him with big whiskey-colored eyes and nodded. Dean watched for Sam’s return, ignoring the increasingly questionable sounds coming from their prisoners. When he looked back, Ase was removing chocolate syrup from one of Loki’s fingers in a fashion that made Dean cringe, especially given the god’s expression and the fact that the woman’s hands couldn’t be seen from his vantage point.

 

“Sammy! Hurry up and come see if you can make this spell speed up some. I'm not watching this for two minutes, let alone however the hell long we have left,” Dean shouted out the door.

 

“You could've had the same treatment and avoided Loki’s wrath if you'd just listened to me,” Ase cooed from behind the barrier, batting her eyelashes at the hunter over Loki’s hand. Dean shuddered and kept as close as possible to the doorway, saying one of his rare silent prayers in gratitude for his brother’s return.

 

“Oh, God, what are they—never mind. We've got to get into position. The barrier drops in less than two minutes and then we’ve got about 10 seconds to kill them both,” Sam recited, his stake at ready.

 

“I know that, dude. Let's just kill them before they have any more ideas,” Dean groaned in reply. Loki wiggled his eyebrows at the brothers suggestively and they shuddered. The quicker they offed these lunatics, the quicker they could find another hunt to try to get the image of these two out of their minds. The two tricksters, feeling the barrier begin to alter, stopped their antics. Loki kept the smaller trickster in his arms when she turned to face the hunters nonetheless, watching them closely. He could feel the fear radiating from Ase and he didn’t like that—not when he’d arrived to save her.

 

The only movement in the room was Loki’s thumb tracing circles on Ase’s arm as everyone counted down. Breaths came quietly, eyes hardly blinked. They all waited for the moment of truth and, when it came, chaos ensued.

 

_Ten seconds_. The Winchester brothers leapt forward.

 

_Nine seconds_. They reached the edge of the barrier.

 

_Seven seconds_. Stake-arms began to raise and Loki tightened his grip on Ase.

 

_Five seconds_. Magic wasn’t working yet, but at least the first stabs had been avoided.

 

_Three seconds_. Sam’s attack was going to hit its mark.

 

_Two seconds_. Loki drew his strength and threw Ase to the farthest edge of the barrier.

 

_One second_. The birch stake entered Loki’s chest and a cry flew from Ase’s throat.

 

_Zero_. Nobody moved until the barrier tangibly vanished. When it did, Ase broke Loki’s fall with her small body and ripped out the stake.

 

“Loki, please be okay,” she pleaded, little hands guiding his face so he could look at her. He glanced to the side, reminding her of the hunters, and she looked up with a ruthless expression. “I may not have the power to save him, but take a step and you’ll be glad of the time I send you to Hell,” she growled before turning back to the dying god, hardly observing that the Winchesters were obeying her plea. “I don’t know what to do. You should’ve thrown me in their path. You have the strength to heal me, but I don’t have enough to heal you.”

 

Loki’s eyes began to flutter closed and Ase continued pleading for a moment before the dying one stilled completely. Once he was motionless, she closed his eyelids, gently laid him on the ground, and struck at Sam Winchester faster than a snake.

 

“You’ve killed him. You killed Loki, brother of Thor, god of Asgard and tricksters, the strongest and oldest of us all. Are you proud of yourself?” she cried angrily, hitting him with small fists. Whirling, she saw the stake and ran for it wildly. “A sacrifice may save him. May whatever gods are left help me.”

 

“Whoa, there,” Sam said, pulling her away from the stake in a vice of a bear hug. He wasn’t sure if her sacrifice could resurrect the other, but he wasn’t willing to find out. Ase fought like mad until she realized it was helpless, at which she became a limp featherlight mass in the hunter’s arms.

 

“I lent my power to Loki to help us escape and now he’s dead and I don’t have enough left. He’ll have died in vain and it’ll be all my fault,” Ase whimpered, tears beginning to trace paths down her cheeks. “All I was doing was spreading happiness and you did all of this because of that.”

 

“Here, Sammy, I’ve got the other stake,” Dean announced, taking a step toward them. The grief-stricken trickster didn’t react. When he got close enough to strike, however, he noticed that she was smiling. “Uh, Sammy, d’you think she was serious about a sacrifice?”

 

“Of course,” Ase replied, grabbing the stake and stabbing it through her chest so fast neither brother could stop her. Sam dropped her in surprise and both brothers watched as she appeared at Loki’s side. “My life for yours, Loki god of mischief. May it honor you.”

 

She whimpered and her bloodstained hand landed on the deceased trickster’s chest. Ase kissed the man’s closest arm and then collapsed. After a moment, Sam and Dean looked at each other. The lack of movement seemed to indicate that the attempted sacrifice had failed.

 

“Well, that wasn’t like a normal hunt,” Dean remarked.

 

“No, it wasn’t,” Sam agreed, still watching the two bodies out of the corner of his eye. “Are we done here, then?”

 

“Yeah, sure are. Let’s go get something to eat—how about pizza?” Dean answered. Sam nodded and they both turned toward the door to get supplies for burning the bodies, facing away from the two bodies. As soon as they did, a dark glow in Loki’s chest began building. Before they reached the door, a crack of sound made their ears ring and vision swim with the pain. Once they began to recover, they glanced back to see an unharmed Loki standing with the bloodied Ase in his arms.

 

“You two clearly haven’t learned anything about tricksters. That’s about to change,” he informed the brothers. They heard a snap and all went blank.

 


	2. You're No Different

…

 

Chapter 2: You’re No Different

 

 _Everything that I say and do_  
In your eyes is always wrong  
Tell me where do I belong  
In a sick society

_You're no different to me_  
You're no different  
No different to me

…

 

“What happened?” Dean groaned, sitting up in the front seat of the Impala. He felt like he had a wicked hangover, but he didn’t remember drinking. Keeping his eyes closed, he threw his arm over to the passenger seat to wake his brother up. “Sammy! Wake u—you aren’t Sammy.”

 

“No, I'm not, and that would be my breast, if you'd kindly let go,” Ase replied, smiling in the seat. Dean jumped back a bit, catching a view of the back to see Loki.

 

“Where’s Sammy?” he demanded. Loki held a finger to his lips.

 

“Gigantor’s  all worn out back here. I’d let him sleep if I were you,” he informed Dean. Dean closed his eyes tightly, shook his head, and then inspected the inside of the car again.

 

“What the hell? You were dead,” he demanded, feeling for a weapon. Ase smiled brightly and popped into the back seat, Sam’s slumbering form appearing in the passenger seat.

 

“We were, but my sacrifice was sufficient devotion to save Loki and he, in his great kindness, revived me,” she answered, giving the trickster-god a look that made Dean want to gag. She turned to look at him and frowned. “Be grateful, too. The two of you would’ve been my first murders if Loki hadn't thought of such a great plan for the four of us.”

 

“The four for us? You mean me and Sam _and_ you two?” Dean asked, feeling the beginnings of panic in his chest.

 

“Yes. We’re going on the road with you, bucko,” Loki informed him. Dean prided himself on his strength and he didn’t think anything less of it when the trickster’s statement sent him back into unconsciousness again.

 

…

 

“So, what’s for dinner, boys?” Loki asked, snapping his fingers to make the shoddy hotel room much more clean and comfortable (and flashy).

 

“Not something _you’re_ materializing, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dean protested drily. The eight-hour drive with the tricksters had been more than enough for him. He was beyond done with dealing with them and he knew they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

 

“What about you, little brother?” Ase asked, running her fingertips along Sam’s arm. Sam had learned hours ago that pulling away meant more attention, so he merely sighed and sat down on the couch. Ase sat by his feet, leaning against his leg with a hand caressing his knee as she looked up at him. “Not hungry? I might be able to stimulate your appetite—perhaps with dessert?”

 

“Down, girl, they’ve had as much as they can handle today,” Loki laughed, watching the younger Winchester’s panic-stricken expression. Ase pouted and popped to the empty kitchenette. Loki followed and wrapped an arm around her, a lollipop in his hand. “No dessert before dinner unless it’s with me.”

 

“I’m just trying to convince them that tricksters aren’t terrible,” she protested, still pouting as Loki popped the candy into her mouth.

 

“Which is exactly why we have to start with dinner,” he admonished her quietly. She nodded and turned toward them, snapping her fingers to make a buffet of burgers, pizza, and salads appear. “Come on, why don’t we skip dinner for a private dessert? I’ve had about as much of hunters as I can take for today.”

 

“You won’t escape this easily next time, tall one,” Ase remarked as Loki led her toward one of the three bedrooms he had snapped into existence.

 

Dean laughed so hard he started to turn red while Sam glared at him.

 

“Looks like you’ve got an admirer, Sammy,” he managed once he caught his breath, Sam’s expression sending him into another fit of laughter.

 

“Haha, it’s hilarious. Seriously, though, Dean, we’re going to have to do something about them. We don’t have any birch stakes and Loki claims he’s protected against them now anyway. We need to call Bobby,” Sam said, making a face at Dean when he grabbed some of the food materialized for them.

 

“What? It’s free and it looks good. I don’t think the girl would poison us,” Dean dismissed. After a bite, he said, “You’re right about Bobby. We have to kill them both separately back to back. If not, he’d resurrect her or she’d resurrect him.”

 

“It’s not going to be easy. If we can at least find a banishing sigil or something, we could work on it in peace and track them down when we haven’t been heckled for hours,” Sam added.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Why don’t we head for Bobby’s? His wards might block them to begin with,” Dean suggested.

 

“Yeah, good idea. But first let’s get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

 

…

 

Somehow, it ended up with Sam and Ase alone in the backseat of the Impala for the remainder of the ride to Bobby’s—somehow being the magic of two determined tricksters. Dean had to admit, it was hilarious. Ase was careful in her behavior, spending just as much time irritating him as she spent endearing him to herself. Of course, Dean also didn’t miss the occasional souring of Loki’s expression, but he gathered that it was more irritation that he was missing out on the fun than that Ase was directing her attention toward another.

 

Dean spent most of the journey wondering if the wards would work. Since the tricksters didn’t mess with his radio and didn’t seem inclined to damage his baby, he mostly ignored them. They would get bored of Sammy eventually and he knew they would entertain themselves tormenting him next, but the wards were his bigger concern. Bobby would help them figure stuff out, sure, but he sure as Hell wouldn't be happy if the boys brought two impish tricksters into his home.

 

The question was answered as soon as they entered Singer Salvage. Loki remained in the front seat but Ase vanished in the middle of a sentence.

 

“What the—?” Sam managed, twisting around to look behind them. Ase was standing on the road pouting, her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“This is _not_ sweet,” she called.

 

“Well, the wards work on some tricksters at least. Why didn’t it work on you?” Dean asked, looking at Loki in the passenger seat. Loki shrugged.

 

“I’m a major god; Ase’s just a trickster, so obviously everything that affects her won’t affect me,” he answered. “I should go check on her. I’ll meet the two of you inside.”

 

“Well, one down, Sammy. Not bad for us, huh?” Dean suggested, glancing at his brother in the mirror.

 

“At least I won’t be molested every five seconds now,” Sam sighed in agreement, leaning against the car door and closing his eyes. A few minutes later, Loki appeared in his lap.

 

“Ase’s going to go have some fun and I’ll let her know when you’ve left this place or I’ve broken the wards. She made sure to tell me to take special care of you, bucko,” Loki announced, snuggling against Sam. Dean nearly crashed the car at the uncharacteristic curse that broke from Sam’s lips.

 

…

 

“Hey, thanks for doing this, everyone. Ase’s really wanted to meet Bobby,” Loki said as he snapped his fingers and sent the household into a field near the house for a picnic they were all fairly certain they hadn’t agreed to. It had been two days and the simple trickster was in great need of a hunter or two to prank. It was a pity they knew trying to escape from whatever was planned would be futile.

 

“Tall one!” Ase exclaimed as she popped into view just before Sam, launching herself at him. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me. Has Loki been taking good care of you? Plenty of desserts and all?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam replied, trying to pry her off of him as gently as she could given her unsteady exuberance. She kissed him on the cheek before popping over to Loki, giving him a kiss as well. When she stepped back, she seemed to notice Bobby.

 

“Oh, how rude of me! Hello, I’m Ase, the lesser trickster bound to the Winchester brothers. Nice to meet you,” she introduced, stopping in front of Bobby with a pretty smile.

 

“Er, I’m Bobby. Nice to meet you too. Now what’s all this about Sam and desserts?” he asked, feeling blackmail territory on the horizon even if his conversation couldn’t get him the information they needed to get rid of her and the other one. He offered his arm to her and she gladly headed toward the picnic area while telling him all about Sam and the tricksters’ plans for him. She admitted that they were focusing on Sam so much because entertaining Dean that way was how they planned to get his—at least grudging—approval as well.

 

They were more or less peacefully (if grumpily) consuming their sandwiches when another individual joined.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. Loki looked up concernedly and Ase looked uncertain as to whether she should scream or kiss the newcomer. “You have a trickster infestation.”

 

“Infestation! There’s nothing wrong with two tricksters hanging out with some buddies,” Ase announced with her usual cheerfulness. The second Castiel turned her way, however, she shrank against Loki, not protesting when he put an arm in front of her to shield her. Castiel watched the girl for another moment before turning his attention to the male trickster.

 

“You are not a normal trickster,” he stated, watching him quizzically.

 

“Well, you can say that again, bucko,” Loki remarked. Castiel stared at him for another moment before returning his attention to Ase.

 

“She is hollow,” he stated after a moment, surprise briefly crossing his features. He appeared behind the tricksters and pulled Ase to her feet, looking her in the face.

 

“L-Loki,” she stuttered, reaching behind her. She was too afraid to look away from the angel’s gaze. Loki wrapped his arms around her and moved her out of Castiel’s path again.

 

“Didn’t the humans teach you it’s rude to stare, chicken wing?” he remarked.

 

“She is not what she appears to be. Neither are you,” Cas repeated, staring hard. Loki didn’t look away, hard whiskey-colored eyes holding searching blue ones. After a long moment, Cas looked at Dean.

 

“Dean, may I examine the trickster called Ase? There is something unusual about both of them but I believe she should have the answer within her,” Cas asked.

 

“Uh, depends what you mean by examine, Cas. She’s…more an annoyance than an enemy,” Dean answered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the looks being passed around the group. Following his answer, he felt a stab of pain in his head and knew for a fact that it was Loki’s fault. Ase took the pause to snap her fingers to flee, but found that she hadn’t moved an inch. Frowning, she tried again and finally tried a different trick to summon food, both failing. A glance toward the angel revealed he was staring at her again and she understood why it didn’t work.

 

“Please, can I go?” she asked as steadily as she could, her hands folded in her lap instead of reaching for the god with his arms still around her. Castiel seemed to ask her to step forward and she did as a show of good faith, disregarding the clinging hands of Loki. Something in the angel drew her, made her curious. It was familiar and yet so unlike anything she had ever seen. When she was about a foot away from him, he touched her forehead and she gasped, frozen into place.

 

Castiel rifled through her existence, searching for the answers he was looking for. She wasn't just a trickster after all, but she also wasn’t fully developed as an independent sentient being. As Castiel had noticed, she was hollow.

 

“That’s enough. You’ll kill her,” Loki insisted, breaking the connection to move Ase out of the way. Castiel looked at the other trickster and recognition dawned.

 

“Brother,” he stated before Loki could manage to stop his words.

 

“Loki?” Ase asked, twisting in Loki’s arms to try to look at both of them.

 

“She is your true vessel. A child and projection to be taken when needed,” Castiel stated. Loki-Gabriel sighed and snapped his fingers, transporting himself and Castiel to another location. “You are not dead and you have your true vessel.”

 

“Yes, obviously and the second bit’s complicated,” Gabriel sighed. “Don’t tell others of my existence. I was hidden on Earth by Father and He wouldn’t appreciate you ruining that.”

 

“You’ve spent centuries as Loki,” Castiel stated, his head leaning to one side in thought. “Ase is part angel. She is your child, Gabriel.”

 

“It’s not as simple as that and you know it. Queen Mab and I passed each other once and mentally connected enough to produce Ase, fully grown and cognizant. Her trickster abilities showed more potential than her dreaming and fairy ones so I took her to train her,” Gabriel explained.

 

“And you are lovers,” Castiel added, not having missed some of the less-subtle signs of such in human behavior.

 

“Yes, that too. It’s not uncommon among gods. If it isn’t your sister, it’s your mother and inheritance of genetics and powers doesn’t work like it does for humans. Ase was just as likely to be a holy huntress as she was a trickster-fairy. Her powers following ours isn’t _unheard of_ , but it wasn’t likely either,” Gabriel pointed out.

 

“But she is your vessel. None of her is human. A non-human vessel has not been attempted before,” Castiel stated.

 

“Yeah. I’ve been searching for my true vessel for centuries. This physical manifestation of a body requires a lot of power and I've been maintaining it since I left—though I'm glad Father gave me the ability at all. I’ve wanted to stop the constant drain of power by finding _any_ suitable vessel. Imagine my surprise when I realized my true vessel was my own offspring,” Gabriel explained, sounding bored. “I’m not stupid. In trickster fashion, I tricked her into giving her consent. I can take over her form at any time I wish.”

 

“But you haven't, even though your power is beginning to weaken. Why?” Castiel asked.

 

“She’s…she’s connected to me. You said she was hollow and you weren’t exactly wrong. Her personality and memories and thoughts are like a thin coat just inside her shell and, if a blazing angel shot into that space, it would burn it all out. The day I take her as my vessel is the day she dies,” Gabriel admitted. “That won’t stop me eventually, but she’s almost to a century of life and I was trying to give her at least that much existence.”

 

“You won’t be able to delay long. Proximity to your vessel is making your Grace strain outward, increasing the power required to physically manifest,” Castiel reasoned.

 

“Yeah, I know. A few more weeks, at least. She’s having a good deal of fun pranking this house and I want her to enjoy it a little bit longer,” Gabriel admitted. After a long moment of consideration, Castiel nodded.

 

“I will not inform the others and I will refrain from interfering in your vessel’s ‘fun’ so long as it does not cause harm,” he stated, making a vow.

 

“Thanks, little bro. We’d better get back before the others lose us. Oh, and watch out for Ase. She may target you for some of her pranks and flirting too. She’s never met an angel before.”

 

…

 

“So this Lilith is a bad, bad demon and you’re hunting her. Can I help?” Ase asked during a meeting over current plans. Bobby had found a charm that would allow her to pass the wards with permission and she’d been happily tormenting everyone in the weeks since. The fact that the charm and therefore permission hadn’t been revoked spoke to the childlike joy she’d got them so addicted to being around.

 

“No,” Sam and Bobby said at the same time as Gabriel said “Absolutely not.”

 

“Hey, cupcake, it looks like they like you. They sounded worried for your safety,” he added, hoping it would be enough to soothe her.

 

“She’d tear a trickster apart, Ase, or use your body and powers for her own means. You’re more help keeping us up with your tricks—y’know, sharpening our senses and making us smile,” Sam tried, everyone watching the trickster’s face turn into an unhappy scowl.

 

“Besides, I didn’t resurrect you after your sacrifice lightly. Those were big old magics I ignored,” Gabriel reminded her. “Legally in the magic world, you belong to me now and I forbid you going anywhere near Lilith. Can’t let a sweet like you be wasted on a foolish fight between Heaven and Hell. There are so many better places we can spend our time.”

 

“Can I at least listen in on the plans?” Ase asked, big eyes centered on the table of hunters.

 

“Just don’t try anything,” Dean told her gruffly.

 

“Maybe you can help us with them, too. Your view of it may be really different from the rest of ours,” Sam soothed. She nodded and, once Gabriel popped into the last open chair, she popped onto the edge of the kitchen island that was next to the table, settling between Sam and Gabriel. By this point, it was hardly noticed when both would reach out to steady her. If their hands stayed on her, nobody mentioned it. Ase was a live connection that would have the same effect on anyone nearby.

 

“Sounds like Minnesota’s the route to go,” Bobby remarked as the discussion continued. “There’re enough demon signs that its either her or an army.”

 

“But what if it’s a trick and she’s in Florida? That’s not a trip we could make quickly, even with my driving,” Dean pointed out.

 

“If that’s the case, maybe I could help. I could transfer you close to the other location and I’d be weak enough afterward that you wouldn’t need to worry about me doing anything else,” Ase offered. The others shared a look. They knew she wanted to help and that she would probably try to somehow and get herself injured or captured if they didn’t arrange it in the safest way possible.

 

“As long as you stay away from both hotspots themselves, I don’t see a problem with it, lollipop,” Gabriel remarked, giving her a look daring her to protest. Instead of a scowl, a small smile lit up her face as she nodded. “The linking between us and the hunters should allow for that if I go with them and I can get away quickly if it seems like she might take an interest with me.”

 

“You think trickster powers will be able to do anything against a demon?” Bobby asked, arms crossed over his chest grumpily. Gabriel seemed to ponder the thought before answering.

 

“Yes and no. I probably won’t cause any harm to her, but I may be able to distract her,” he answered. “I’m not going to go out of my way with any of it, though. The bond requires that we stay nearby most of the time, but there’s no reason for me to risk my life for yours. We’d be freed instantly if you died. Calm down, Ase, I’m not done yet. However, I will assist in distracting her as far as I can without drawing attention to the bond or Ase. I won’t risk her for you.”

 

“Fine. We need to come up with a game plan. She won’t be trying to get our attention for nothin’,” Bobby pointed out, shifting in his chair to sit forward and grab one of the sheets of notes he had on the table. The remaining humans followed likewise, preparing for yet another battle that easily could—and honestly should—be their last.

 

…

 

In the end, their plans didn’t work out like they’d hoped.

 

Castiel joined them and transported them to Minnesota—according to plan.

 

They got close enough to check out the signs and found a surprising concentration of demons, but no Lilith. Cas wiped them out—according to plan.

 

Ase transported them all to the town in Florida that was the other hotspot—according to plan.

 

All Hell broke loose— _not_ according to plan.

 

“She’s out,” Gabriel indicated, grabbing Ase as she started to fall. They weren’t supposed to fall into a trap of this magnitude. The demon signs were further in the city.

 

“Go and get her out of here, ya idjit,” Bobby commanded, shooting a demon point blank. Gabriel nodded and snapped his fingers, summoning his trickster powers. It didn’t work. Frowning, he tried again, putting all of his effort into it. They remained in the room.

 

“Oh, hells, no,” he groaned, looking frantically for his brother. Castiel was busy with a good twenty demons and probably wouldn’t abandon his fight for the split second necessary to remove Ase if he didn’t feel Gabriel could take his place. Realizing the only other alternative would be to use his Grace and make all of Heaven aware of the fact he was alive, Gabriel tucked Ase in a corner of the room and turned back to fight.

 

“What’s wrong, Loki? Why aren’t you getting her out of here?” Sam asked, hardly glancing Gabriel’s way as he fended off a demon that was trying very hard to stab him in the neck.

 

“Trickster powers aren’t working. All I’ve got is my hand-to-hand and my sexy smile,” Gabriel answered as nonchalantly as he could. Sam saw his worried look regardless and threw the demon off, coming a little closer to the trickster-god.

 

“I’ll help until we have to move on. Once we go to take on Lilith, can you handle her alone?” Sam asked, expertly slicing another demon’s throat.

 

“Don’t have a choice, do I, Sasquatch? I’ll have to let her know how much you care, though. She’ll take it as the opportunity to prank you to no end,” Gabriel replied. Sam sent him a look and, despite himself, the look gave Gabriel some courage. Sam fully believed he would have the chance to kick Gabriel’s ass after this and that was enough for now. He’d decided long ago that his Father had a hand in keeping these fools alive and it would be foolish to think He would stop now.

 

“Dean, left!” Sam shouted, noticing a diminished number of demons to that side.

 

“I’m on it,” Dean called back, beginning to plan. “Cas, clear the rest of ‘em out. Bobby, take care of the ones behind Cas. Sammy, get ready to blast our way out of here.”

 

Various indications of understanding followed before the plan began to be enacted. Slowly, they made their way toward the left door, clearing the way as they went. Cas shot his brother a look questioning if he could handle it, waiting for Gabriel’s nod before he slipped out of the door ahead of the Winchesters.

 

Outside the building was hardly better than inside, but the open landscape made it easier to dodge and fight while still going in the right direction. Cas acted as a compass, sensing Lilith’s power and leading them the right way. They were getting close—he could feel it and they were fighting a tougher class of demon with every foot. When the demons suddenly stood down, they all looked around to find the possessed little girl they had to kill.

 

“It’s not very nice to kill someone’s guards,” she said, eyes turning white.

 

“Yeah, well, lesser of two evils,” Dean retorted absently, fingers twitching around his blade. Lilith smiled before frowning at Castiel, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

 

“I forgot how nasty you smelled. So _clean_ and _pure_ , but you aren’t as bad as you used to be, are you? I can smell the beginnings of decay, a rot starting in your essence. Perhaps one day we will meet without animosity, Castiel,” she remarked in her child’s-high voice. Castiel scowled but didn’t respond. Lilith frowned again, looking between the group. “There’s another scent on you. What have you been working with?”

 

“Anyone against you?” Sam offered, shifting his stance. Lilith stared at him in a way that made him wonder if the demon could look into his soul.

 

“Well, this is interesting. Let’s bring your friends to the party, shall we?” she stated before blinking. When she opened her eyes again, Gabriel and Ase were in the no-man’s-land between the hunters and the demons. “You’re trying very hard to make the universe believe you’re a god, aren’t you?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabriel answered smoothly, moving to put Ase behind him again. Lilith looked at the unconscious woman and smiled as she returned her gaze to Gabriel.

 

“Well, there’s a simple way to find out, isn’t there?” she asked cloyingly, raising her hand. Gabriel prepared himself for attack, but instead discovered that he was unharmed. A sliver of ice seemed to run through his chest as he realized the warmth of a live being behind him was ebbing, despite the weight of Ase he could feel leaning against his back. “Oh, did you think I was going to try to attack you? Demons can play tricks too.”

 

“What have you done?” Gabriel asked, feeling a dangerous anger rising in him.

 

“Forced you to reveal what you are—if you cared for the slave tethered to you,” Lilith answered calmly, watching with a smile. Castiel appeared beside Gabriel and Lilith’s smile wavered just a bit. The look of fear on the angel’s face didn’t bode well for her.

 

“Get them away,” Gabriel ground out, his eyes starting to glow. Lilith took it as her signal, vanishing as the hunters and the angel did. Gabriel turned toward Ase, shaking violently. Reopening the well to his Grace was painful and slow. He only hoped it would get quicker. He didn’t care for the pain. Ase had been a friend and he’d had far too few of those since leaving Heaven.

 

When his Grace flared out around him, completely open again, the shockwave registered as far away as Oregon. The re-endowed archangel touched Ase’s chest to try to determine if her essence was still inside her or where it had gone otherwise. With a frown, he realized he couldn’t find evidence of it being anywhere. A glance on the physical realm made him realize her form was beginning to decay with the rapidity typical of a deceased trickster.

 

“No, oh, Father, no,” he muttered, realizing the frantic prayer was the only hope he had left. He couldn’t save Ase. Predictably, God maintained silence. Gabriel realized two things at once: 1) his physical manifestation was impossible to maintain with his Grace freed and 2) if he acted quickly, he could inhabit Ase’s form to stop the decay.

 

“I’m sorry, Ase.”


	3. Sweet Emotion

Chapter 3: Sweet Emotion

 

_You're calling my name but I gotta make clear_

_I can't say baby where I'll be in a year_

…

_Your telling me things I can sure understand_

_'Cause a month on the road an' I'll be eating from your hand_

…

 

“She’s hiding somewhere with warding sigils. Where the Hell could she be? I’m going to find her and kill her,” a voice announced in the middle of Bobby’s living room as a crack of thunder shook the house.

 

“Ase?” Sam asked, staring at the short beacon of rage in confusion.

 

“Gabriel, you must calm down,” Cas stated, appearing suddenly before the trickster.

 

“Castiel, try to stop me and I’ll destroy you too. I’m going to find Lilith and tear her to pieces. She didn’t kill Ase—she destroyed her essence. There isn’t a hint of her left anywhere in her body or the dimensions I’ve checked,” the woman’s voice responded.

 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam called as unobtrusively as he could, hoping his brother would be able to figure out what was going on. The decision to speak was apparently a poor one as Ase-Gabriel appeared in front of him with a murderous look, the lights blinking as lightning lit the sky outside.

 

“You encouraged her to help with the planning. It’s your fault she’s gone,” she hissed. Castiel appeared between them.

 

“Gabriel, you must calm down,” he repeated. “No individual is at fault besides Lilith.”

 

“But I can’t find _her_ and I can find _him_ ,” Gabriel pointed out, pointing a finger accusingly at Sam.

 

“Cas, what’s going on here?” Dean asked from the doorway of the room, eyeing the five-foot female carefully.

 

“You wouldn’t be able to stop me, bucko, so don’t even think about it,” Gabriel warned acidly.

 

“Ase’s essence was irrecoverable from Lilith’s attack. Gabriel was masquerading as Loki and reconnected with his angelic powers to save her, but was unable to do so. However, as she was his true vessel, he is now inhabiting her form and is enraged that he could not recover Ase or kill Lilith by this time,” Cas explained, his eyes not leaving Gabriel’s. He knew he couldn’t stop the archangel, but he was hoping that his presence was enough to deter him from attacking.

 

“You mean Loki was Gabriel and now he’s stuck in Ase’s body because she’s dead?” Sam hazarded slowly.

 

“Not dead— _gone_. I can fix _dead_ ,” Gabriel seethed. Sam realized that the anger was starting to diminish and thought Gabriel might start to cry, so he stood up and nudged him into the seat he had vacated. Gabriel put his (her?) face in her (definitely her, if he was stuck in Ase’s form. Sam knew angels were genderless naturally. But what if Gabriel thought of himself as male?) hands in a look of utter defeat. “It’s like she never lived at all.”

 

“Hey, that’s not true. As long as we all remember her, part of her will be alive,” Sam offered soothingly, trying to calm the archangel. Her anger had been frightening and Sam wasn’t sure how any of them would be able to handle her depression.

 

“She liked you best of all the humans,” Gabriel stated, not looking up. Sam felt a lump in his throat, but knew better than to reply. Instead, he sat beside the trickster-turned-archangel and put his arm around the small shoulders in silence.

 

Dean made a motion for Cas to join him and they headed to the kitchen.

 

“Dude, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

 

“As I said, Gabriel is inhabiting the physical form that was Ase’s. Ase was destroyed by Lilith,” Castiel repeated.

 

“You mean that dumbass trickster Loki was an _archangel_ the whole friggin’ time?” Dean demanded in an angry whisper. Castiel nodded. “Son of a _bitch_. He’d better not be something else pretending to be Gabriel after all this crap.”

 

“He is not. It is Gabriel. He had his Grace trapped and silenced. His desire to recover Ase was enough to release it, but he could not save her. However, she was his true vessel and he chose to inhabit her form in the hopes that enough of her essence would remain inside for him to reconstruct her. He—she, I believe is the correct term in this case—found no evidence of Ase’s essence and seems to be distraught. She told me that Ase was the closest to family she had since leaving Heaven millennia ago,” he recited.

 

“He—er, _she_ —gonna be okay?” Dean asked, the anger in his voice softened. He understood something of losing his only family and he thought he might know a little bit of what the archangel was going though.

 

“She will recover her full strength, but her psyche may require longer. Her Grace indicates she has made a pledge to kill Lilith and her focus will remain on that goal until it is completed. Her Grace will remain altered by the pledge until she has avenged her companion,” Cas explained. “She will not ‘be okay’ more than you would be if your closest friend had been eradicated from existence.”

 

“Man, that sucks. You think she’s going to hang out here or go join the Host?” Dean asked.

 

“She will likely remain here. The Host would be unlikely to understand her emotions and they would expect her to immediately resume the role she once held,” Cas answered. “Whether she remains in this group or travels elsewhere on Earth is uncertain.”

 

“So we’ve got a depressed archangel in the group now, great,” Dean groaned, trying to pass it off as irritation. Cas gave him a quizzical look, recognizing the falsehood in his sentiment. Cas felt certain he understood Dean enough to know that the human was upset for the archangel and for the loss of Ase, but Cas had yet to understand Dean’s penchant for passing off all his emotions either in silence or as irritation. After downing a glass of whiskey, the hunter asked, “So what do we do now?”

 

“We continue to hunt Lilith. That has not changed.”

 

…

 

When they woke up the next morning, Gabriel had the kitchen table covered with pancakes, waffles, syrups, and pastries. Sam, the first one there, nearly turned back, but Gabriel saw him and smiled.

 

“Morning, Gigantor. There’s coffee and breakfast,” she (he? Sam really needed to ask because he was going in mental circles trying to figure out which he should use) stated, stirring what appeared to be more pancake mix. “Help yourself.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Sam stated, cautiously going to pour himself a cup of coffee. It was beyond odd to know that Ase’s body was now filled with an archangel instead of a simple trickster, especially with the moments where their personalities and expressions overlapped enough that it _looked_ like Ase again. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he’d had the beginnings of a crush on the little trickster and it was disconcerting to see her tiny form bustling about with a super-powerful archangel-who-had-been-male-when-they-met-him inside. And he knew it was only going to get more confusing if they tried to introduce the archangel as ‘Gabriel’ when they met others who didn’t know.

 

“Er, Gabriel?” Sam asked, halfway hoping the archangel wouldn’t pay attention.

 

“What is it, kiddo?” Gabriel responded, not turning away from the waffle maker.

 

“Er, it’s going to be hard to convince people that your name’s Gabriel now that you’re, y’know, female,” Sam hazarded. Gabriel froze.

 

“I’ll say that I was supposed to be born a boy and my parents didn’t want to change it. Using female pronouns should be enough to make people ignore it. Easy as that,” she ( _finally_ Sam knew which to use. Or did Gabriel mean only in public?) answered after a moment, removing a burnt waffle from the maker. Sam pretended not to notice.

 

“Yeah, I guess that could work. Do you need Dean to forge some documents for you or can you do it yourself?” he asked. Gabriel turned around and looked at Sam.

 

“I can make them. I don’t have much else to do before we get another hint on the hunt,” she stated, big eyes full of emotions angels weren’t supposed to feel. Sam restrained himself from hugging the archangel again with a reminder that it was freakin’ Gabriel, not some human soul seeking comfort from another. “Anyway, I’m going to be around causing trouble, so I may as well do some things myself.”

 

“Like making enough food to feed an army?” Sam suggested with a smile, gesturing towards the piles of food on the table.

 

“What are you talking about, Sambo? I intend to eat most of that myself,” Gabriel replied, the corners of her rosebud lips turning up in a smile. Sam shook his head when the archangel turned around. This was going to take some significant adjusting time.

 

…

 

It took less than a week for the hunters to realize mentioning Lilith was a dangerous game. On the one hand, they needed to keep hunting her. On the other, Gabriel looked ready to explode with rage each time the demon came up. Once they calmed her down, the quiet dejection would set in. A startling lack of sweets and the sight of an occasionally quivering lip would bring down the entire house and leave everyone walking on eggshells. Castiel would often join them for research around these times, keeping an eye on his sibling to be sure nobody was harmed and recovery was in the works.

 

In the end, it was Sam that came up with an idea for getting Gabriel out of the house long enough for a meeting. Sam pulled her to the side one afternoon to speak to her privately.

 

“Hey, Gabriel, don’t tell Dean, but there’s a new candy store half an hour away and I wanted to go there to get something for him, since his birthday’s coming up. Could you come with me so it won’t look suspicious? He knows I don’t eat much candy,” Sam asked, unleashing his patent puppy dog eyes. Gabriel looked at him with pursed lips, trying to determine the truth behind the request.

 

“Yeah, sure. You wanna go now?” Gabriel asked, nearly making Sam betray himself with a sigh of relief.

 

“Yeah, just let me grab some car keys and we can head out. Er, you don’t mind if we drive, do you? I need to get out of the house for awhile,” Sam admitted, glancing toward his brother, Bobby, and Cas guiltily.

 

“No problemo. I’ve got all day,” Gabriel answered easily.

 

“Great, thanks, Gabe,” Sam replied, smiling before he turned toward the living room. “Hey, Bobby, what car can I borrow? Gabriel wants to go to the candy store and I need to get out of here for a little while.”

 

“Third key from the left, red truck behind the house,” Bobby instructed gruffly without looking up.

 

“Thanks, Bobby. Anybody need us to pick anything up while we’re out?” Sam asked, heading toward the display of keys by the door.

 

“Bring home some beer and pie,” Dean instructed.

 

“Seriously, dude, you’re going to turn into pie if you keep it up,” Sam groaned, opening the door for Gabriel before he left. As soon as the door closed behind them, Bobby, Dean, and Castiel gathered at the dining room table.

 

“Grab that box on the top shelf, would ya, kid?” Bobby requested, gesturing at one of the shelves. Dean got it and handed it to Bobby, who opened the lid and began scattering papers on the tabletop. “This is what we’ve collected in the past few weeks.”

 

“Thanks for keeping it locked up, Bobby. God knows we don’t need any more drama from Gabby,” Dean remarked as he took his seat and began looking at some of the papers. Castiel watched Dean for a second, trying to determine if Dean truly discounted Gabriel’s responses or if he was merely trying to make it appear so.

 

“She hasn’t shown her face since Florida. There aren’t a lot of signs big enough to suggest she’s back,” Bobby commented, throwing down the paper he had been perusing. “You think maybe Gabriel got her and didn’t realize it?”

 

“No, she was left alive. It is more likely that she has gone into hiding. An archangel has the capability to kill her and Gabriel has sworn to do so,” Castiel stated. “She will be difficult to find and she may delay her return considerably, although she will not wait forever. Freeing Lucifer is more important to her than her life, but she must ensure that he will be freed before she is killed. She has already broken thirty two seals.”

 

“So what do we do? Can we try to block her from opening other seals or what? Where’s Heaven taking a stand on this? What do they think about Gabriel?” Dean asked, setting down his papers.

 

“We’ve gotta keep doing what we’ve been doing, kid. Cas already told us there are too many seals for us to protect them,” Bobby pointed out.

 

“Heaven is focused on that task and searching for Gabriel. They want him to return to the Host. I believe our best course of action would be to continue looking for Lilith. If we discover her location, Gabriel will kill her,” Cas answered.

 

“How are we supposed to find her if she’s got sigils keeping her from being detected? C’mon, Cas, we can’t work a miracle,” Dean whined.

 

“Contrarily, Dean, I believe the group in this house has witnessed or been part of more miracles than most,” Cas stated. “All we can do now is keep looking for signs and keep Gabriel effective for the moment Lilith is found.”

 

“Sounds like we’re using Gabriel,” Dean remarked, sounding uncomfortable by the idea.

 

“If you ask me, it’s about time we started using angels instead of them using us. Besides, this is what Gabriel wants. We aren’t pushing him—her—whatever—into this,” Bobby said. “We need to focus on finding that damn demon. Is there anything you haven’t tried, Cas? We’ve only got so many options available to us as hunters.”

 

“I may be able to pick up a trace from her last known location, although that is dubious given that Gabriel did not find her. It is possible that a trace could lead to her and Gabriel overlooked it due to rage,” Cas offered.

 

“Just be careful and call us if you get a lead, okay? It won’t help us any if you get hurt,” Dean warned brusquely. Castiel looked at him, recognizing the attempt to hide sentiment, and nodded.

 

“I will return once I have ascertained whether or not this is possible,” he stated before popping out of the room.

 

…

 

“So do you still have all your trickster powers or have you just been using your Grace to mimic them?” Sam asked as Gabriel set about eating a bag of cotton candy they had purchased.

 

“Trickster powers. They’re all still there—maybe stronger now,” Gabriel answered.

 

“You mean now that…?” Sam prompted cautiously.

 

“Yeah. She’s gone, but her body had the innate powers of tricksters and fairies, especially for dreams. Now that it’s my vessel, I’ve got those powers too. As if looking out from her eyes every day wasn’t bad enough,” Gabriel snorted, closing the bag of cotton candy absently. “I’d risk altering her form back to my usual one, but it scares me. Yes, an archangel can be afraid—or at least _I_ can after so many centuries on Earth. I worry that if I changed her form, I would forget some detail when I changed back and wouldn’t notice. If that kept occurring, one day it wouldn’t be recognizable as the same. This is all that’s left of her.”

 

“Oh,” Sam murmured quietly, not realizing the enormity of the situation. He’d been caught up in thinking it was bad looking at Ase’s body all the time. He couldn’t imagine being trapped in it. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

 

“Sometimes it’s like I can almost sense the imprint of her. It’s certain expressions, certain reactions. I just wish there was enough that I could gather to send to Heaven. Then she would be safe but I could still see her. Instead, she’s scarcely more than a memory,” Gabriel sighed, looking out the window. Sam hesitated for a moment before putting his hand on her shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, but he hoped it would be enough. Gabriel stiffened at the touch, but didn’t pull away and Sam counted it as a small victory. The archangel needed the comfort of a friend and Sam knew it. He remembered when Gabriel had tormented him with Tuesdays before leading him to believe Dean was dead. He’d turned ruthless because he _hadn’t_ accepted the help of friends. He didn’t want that to happen to Gabriel. Part of him wondered why he didn’t want the archangel to suffer like he had, but Sam reminded himself that an archangel could be a lot more dangerous than a boy with demon blood.

 

“Thank you,” Gabriel stated softly, not looking at Sam. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you either. I saw the way you looked at her.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I promise I’ll burn Lilith away the second I find her. I’m going to pour my Grace into her to find the information I need and burn her until she doesn’t exist. I will erase her existence as she did Ase’s and I’ll recover Ase and send her to Heaven. There has to be a way.”

 

“D’you…Does…D’you think God ever listens to prayers?” Sam asked uncertainly, glancing at the archangel in the seat beside him. Gabriel sat perfectly still for a moment before taking Sam’s hand from her shoulder into both of her own.

 

“I think He hears them, Sam,” Gabriel said softly. “I think He answers them sometimes and I think He should answer yours more than most. You’ve put more faith in Him than half of Heaven’s angels and they don’t even have the free will to choose not to believe.”

 

“Dean’s always mocked that about me,” Sam stated, wondering at the hammering of his heart. Gabriel chuckled quietly.

 

“I did too, at first. I learned a lot about you at Broward County,” she admitted. “You never reacted like I expected you to—well, I expected some of it. I knew you’d keep trying to save your brother and that you’d do everything in your power to bring him back when he was gone. I didn’t expect you to keep saving people along the way. It was like each time you took a darker turn internally, you did more good for others. It surprised me. And then you sent out a prayer so loud I couldn’t help but hear it—a cry to God to let you save your brother before He sent you to Hell for the state of your soul. You sounded like you were trying to make a deal, but there was so much faith in your prayer. You fully expected Him to listen and agree.”

 

“You _heard_ that?” Sam asked, pulling his hand away self-consciously. He’d been private about his prayers since he was little—he could only feel horror that one so heartfelt and hurt had reached the ears of another. Gabriel sighed.

 

“Sometimes angels can hear prayers—we always hear the ones addressed to us, but sometimes we hear ones intended for others if God wants us to. Usually it means we’re supposed to step in for him. You didn’t _really_ think I messed up after so many Tuesdays, did you?” she asked, smiling softly.

 

“You…You let yourself get caught? Because of my prayer?” Sam asked breathlessly. It changed the whole scenario in his mind—the archangel’s warnings suddenly so much more meaningful. Gabriel hadn’t just tormented Sam and warned him without understanding. Gabriel knew what Sam had gone through, to some extent.

 

He would later wonder if that’s the moment he realized he kinda sorta didn’t mind the archangel being around that much. Things became muddy the moment Gabriel got his vessel.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fem!Gabe is a temporary state for those who were worried, ‘kay? Contrarily, if you were all about it, don’t fret yet; she’s sticking around for a few chapters first.


	4. Hey You

 

Chapter 4: Hey You

 

_Hey you with you ear against the wall_

_Waiting for someone to call out_

_Would you touch me?_

_Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?_

_Open your heart, I'm coming home_

_But it was only fantasy_

_The wall was too high_

_As you can see_

_No matter how he tried_

_He could not break free_

 

…

 

Bobby had already started getting damn tired of the angel that happened by his house whenever the boys did. He was more than ticked now that he had an archangel _living_ with him too. Hell, the boys had started leaving the archangel _behind_ when they went on normal hunts. What in damn-fucking-hell was Bobby supposed to say to her?

 

After a few trips, though, Bobby realized that there wasn’t really a need for him to say anything. The archangel ghosted through the house, working on projects and munching on sweets. The most Bobby had to do was occasionally make some sort of noise of agreement whenever Gabriel asked to borrow a book. Hell, half the time he woke up with coffee on and the chores done. Bobby had noticed that the days everything wasn’t done were the days he would find Gabriel outside somewhere, though.

 

He pretended not to notice the archangel’s angry expression then. If he happened to make a cake or something that day, well, that was just good luck for the archangel. Bobby definitely didn’t make sweets because of it, or so he’d swear if asked.

 

It happened to be that Gabriel was in one of her moods the day the boys were planning to return, so Bobby was grumbling his way through making two pies in the kitchen when an earthquake shook the house.

 

“What the hell?” Bobby asked, heading toward the door to make sure nothing outside was broken. “Gabriel, what are you doing? You shook the whole damn house, kid!”

 

“Sorry, Bobby, but I’d go back inside if I were you,” Gabriel replied, shaking as she stood in the crater she’d created. When Bobby froze, one of Gabriel’s hands lifted and Bobby was thrown back into the house, the door closing behind him. Another shockwave rocked the house and, by the time Bobby reached the door, Gabriel was gone but the door still wouldn’t open.

 

“Balls,” he exclaimed, heading straight for the phone. Dean answered on the first ring. “We’ve got a situation here. That damn archangel just rocked off to God knows where and locked me in the house. I can’t get out and she wasn’t herself. You might wanna send Cas after her while you try to get me out of here.”

 

“All right, Cas should be headed straight to you. We’ll be there in about a half hour,” Dean answered before Bobby jumped in surprise and slammed the phone down.

 

“Haven’t you learned anything about personal space, boy?” Bobby growled at Castiel’s proximity. “Now let me the hell out of the house and go after your sister.”

 

“Gabriel has left a message behind. She says not to follow. Lilith has been found and she will dispatch her before returning,” Cas stated, inspecting a glowing stone Bobby assumed came from the crater. Cas looked up at Bobby with a confused expression. “What was Gabriel doing before she left?”

 

“Sitting under that Goddamn tree like she always does when she’s angry,” Bobby answered, gesturing toward the large, solitary boxelder that had crested the slight hill of the property for centuries. Castiel popped out of the room for a moment, appearing under the tree before returning by opening the door.

 

“She has been using it to siphon bits of her Grace. Grace is biological in that it will regrow if part is diminished and there are theories that parts can be removed over time and allowed to regrow to store extra. This would provide a boost if too injured or, as in this case, a way to have additional power before battle,” Castiel informed him. “I must find her despite her warning. She will be reckless.”

 

“That’s a new one,” Bobby whistled to the empty room, staring out the back door at the tree. He was still standing there when the boys entered the house.

 

“Where ya at, Bobby?” Dean called from the front.

 

“Kitchen,” Bobby replied absently, his attention focused on the gaping crater in his backyard. Damned if he was gonna fix it—that archangel was going to do it the second she got back.

 

"What the fuck?" Dean whistled in surprise, seeing the damage. "She did that?"

 

"Crap. She must've found something about Lilith. Dean, you better call Cas back. She'll kill him before she realizes what she's doing," Sam warned, heading toward his chair at the table to start going through the stack of things he always left there. Dean glanced at him before sending a frantic prayer to Cas. Sam knew the archangel better than the rest of them and, if Sam said she wouldn't know what she was doing, Dean believed it. He needed to get Cas back to safety.

 

"She will not listen to reason," Cas announced before falling into Dean's side.

 

"Fuck, man, it looks like she tore you a new one," Dean remarked, dragging the angel toward the couch. "Bobby, you got anything to help?"

 

"With an unconscious angel? The hell do I look like, boy?" Bobby demanded irritatedly, taking off his cap just long enough to run his hand through his hair in exasperation. "Get him to the couch and I'll see what I can dig up. What are you doing, Sam?"

 

"I might be able to get her to calm down if I can remind her why she needs to _not_ harm the body she's in. Remember that ribbon Ase had? If we can get the thought of it to her with enough force, it might bring her to her senses enough to make her a little less reckless," Sam answered, digging through his backpack. "Problem is, I can't seem to find it."

 

"Was it in your laptop bag?" Bobby offered, coming over to help. They all knew better than to mention the fact that he’d apparently saved something so frivolous.

 

"Maybe, I'll go check upstairs," Sam answered, making it to the stairs in five long strides and up them in another three. Bobby shook his head at the sight before looking through his giant adopted-son's things. "Found it!"

 

"How you gonna get the image to him? Cas's still out and prayers are words, last I checked," Bobby grumbled, wondering if Sam had even thought that far. Sam's frown wasn't encouraging.

 

"I think I can get it to her as a prayer. We haven't talked about it much, but it sounds like prayers can be feelings more than words, so maybe I can just project the memories the ribbon has attached to it to her," he said uncertainly, beginning to look dejected. He'd been so glad to have a plan, but now he was beginning to realize how questionably useful that plan would be. Bobby made a sound of gruff encouragement and Sam sat down at the table, giving the ribbon in his hands a long look before closing his eyes tightly.

 

He thought _towards_ Gabriel and hoped it would work, trying to think solely of the deceased trickster, how much she loved the archangel, and how upset she was when Gabriel died. He thought about the day he took Gabriel to the candy store, too. He thought about the little lurch in his heart at the archangel's pain and hoped it would help sway him to return. He wanted Gabriel to understand that neither Ase nor Sam would want this to be a suicide mission—and that the rest of the family wouldn’t either.

 

When Sam finally opened his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder exactly how long he'd been trying. It had been getting dark out, sure, but it was completely so now and he was alone in the dining room.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” a soft, warm voice murmured nearby. Sam turned around to find Gabriel lounging by the wall, arms crossed over her blood-stained chest. Sam jumped up toward the archangel.

 

“God, are you okay?” he asked, not waiting for permission to examine the gash on Gabriel’s shoulder. “What happened?”

 

“I heard you, but I was in a rage and Lilith disappeared before I could get to her. The rage had to go somewhere—I had to draw blood before it would dissipate—so I chose my own, given the circumstances,” Gabriel answered, confident posture at odds with the quiet voice and suddenly very breakable-looking body. She shrugged and Sam settled his hands on her shoulders delicately like he was afraid to hurt her. “Don’t worry about it. I could Grace it away, but even without that it’ll be gone by morning. I thought it might be better if I contemplate it for a few hours.”

 

“Lilith didn’t get away because I distracted you, did she?” Sam asked cautiously.

 

“No, ‘course not. It was bad timing, though, and it nearly got you killed,” Gabriel said with a bit of a chuckle, noticing idly that shrugging her shoulders had reopened the wound. Sam followed her line of sight and sighed.

 

“Come sit down and let me patch it up. I know it’ll just heal, but it’ll make me feel better,” he instructed, leading the archangel toward the chair. Gabriel sat down and slipped her arm out of her shirtsleeve, allowing Sam better access to the wound. When Sam returned with the first aid kit, Gabriel was looking away toward the floor unmoving. Sam examined the wound and made a noise of discontent. “God, Gabe, it looks like you ripped it on something. What did you do?”

 

“I ripped it. I grabbed the flesh and ripped it away. Anything less wouldn’t have helped,” she answered quietly, lips hardly moving. Sam shook his head and set to work carefully patching the skin as best he could, working in silence. When he finished and everything was cleaned up, Gabriel murmured, “Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Just…try not to let it happen again, ‘kay? I don’t like patching friends up knowing the monster’s still out there,” Sam asked softly. Gabriel didn’t change where she was staring, but she nodded slightly and Sam sighed in relief. “I’m…going to go to bed. If you need anything,—.”

 

“—I’m an archangel and I can probably get it myself,” Gabriel pointed out, looking up at Sam. He felt his face flush in embarrassment, realizing he’d been babying one of the most powerful beings on the planet, and looked away from the hard, whiskey-colored eyes.

 

“Yeah,” he managed, turning and leaving the room before he could embarrass himself further. Damn, but he’d lost track of what Gabriel was for a moment. She’d looked damaged and Sam had forgotten that a little flesh wound wasn’t something for the archangel to bat an eyelash at. The more Sam thought about it, the more chagrinned he got. He was surprised nobody—not least of all the archangel herself—had started making fun of what had every appearance of being a sappy puppy-love crush.

 

…

 

“Are you drunk?” Dean asked, taking in the picture of his fried-looking brother beside a not-much-better-appearing Castiel on Bobby’s loveseat.

 

“Theoretically, yes. Technically, also yes,” Cas answered, eyeing the empty whiskey bottle on the table like it ticked him off.

 

“W’re no’ _drunk_. Jus’ had a li’l t’drink,” Sam slurred, attempting to punch Cas playfully in the arm and instead falling into the angel’s side.

 

“Yeah, okay, I think it’s time for bed. C’mon, Sammy, I’ll get you upstairs,” Dean offered, going to his brother’s side. Sam shook his head where it landed on Cas’s shoulder.

 

“Nn-nn,” he managed inarticulately, eyes closed, before he let out a snore.

 

“Sam is— _hic_ —fine here. _Hic_. What is my— _hic_ —vessel doing?” Cas asked, frowning at his chest.

 

“Hiccups, Cas. They happen sometimes when humans drink. Now help me get Sammy off of you and upstairs,” Dean instructed, surprised when Cas put an arm around Sam protectively.

 

“He— _hic_ —’s fine— _hic_ —here. Dean,— _hic_ —make— _hic­­_ —my vessel— _hic_ —stop,” Cas whined, looking distressed.

 

“Help me get Sammy upstairs and I’ll help you get rid of your hiccups,” Dean said, hoping the ultimatum would make Cas listen.

 

“N— _hic_ —No.”

 

“Cas, since when are you all chummy and drinking with Sam? That’s not like you, man,” Dean sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubble absently. Cas’s eyes focused in on the movement and, after a second, Dean realized Cas was staring at his lips. Unsure how to process that, Dean shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Cas, I’m taking Sammy upstairs. You can help or you can sit there, but you aren’t stopping me. You’re too drunk and… _hiccupy_.”

 

“I will— _hic_ —agree on— _hic_ —one condition— _hic_ ,” Cas managed.

 

“What condition?” Dean asked tersely, eyes narrowed. Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean’s and lasciviously _smiled_ , smooth drunken fucker he was. It reminded Dean too much of the future orgy-addicted Cas he’d seen courtesy of Zachariah. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him into a standing position before beginning the difficult task of dragging the giant toward the stairs. “Cas, I swear to _God_ , if you ever have a look like that on your face again, I’m going to punch it off so hard your _Grace_ will feel it.”

 

“I would like to feel your touch all the way to my Grace.”

 

“Cas, shut the fuck up, man.”

 

“Make me, Dean.”

 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean swore, hoping to God there was some alcohol left in the house for him somewhere. He needed it. He’d made it to the staircase already and he was halfway to making the decision to leave Sam there long enough to find the alcohol when Sam’s weight disappeared from his side. He looked up to find Cas standing unsteadily on his feet nearby. “What the fuck did you do to Sam, Cas? Don’t do crap when your fried, dumbass! And what the hell happened to the hiccups?”

 

“Sam is in his bed upstairs. I am uncertain why the hiccups are gone,” Cas answered, swaying far enough that Dean instinctively reached out to steady him. The sound Cas made at the contact made Dean draw his hands back like he’d been scalded.

 

“Fuck, Cas, you’re _never_ drinking again, you hear me?” Dean ground out, pressing on one of his temples to try to ease his growing headache. Cas looked at him contemplatively, head tilted to the side.

 

“Fuck, yes, I believe that is what I wish to do.”

 

“Dammit, Cas, shut the Hell up,” Dean growled, trying to come up with some sort of plan. He felt his insides go cold when he realized his best course of action. “Son of a bitch! Gabriel, I need your help, man. Your brother’s drunk and I can’t handle a drunk angel.”

 

“I would not damage you in a way that would not be pleasing to you, Dean.”

 

“Fuck off, Cas— _dammit_ ,” Dean swore, remembering too late that he needed to watch his wording.

 

“Y’know, I’m not sure I _want_ to help you out of this one, bucko. It looks like it’ll end up pretty hilarious,” Gabriel remarked, turning Dean’s attention back down the hallway where the smirking archangel had appeared.

 

“Please don’t be a dick about this, Gabriel. Just…”

 

“Just get the alcohol _out of Cas_ before he jumps the gun and _gets in you_ , yeah, I got it,” Gabriel answered with a wave of her hand. Suddenly, Cas steadied and looked at Dean with wide eyes. Before Dean could say anything, Cas vanished. “Kinda figured he’d play coward. Question is, how’d he get drunk like that in the first place? It isn’t easy.”

 

“I don’t know. I came downstairs to get a drink and found Cas and Sam wasted on the loveseat. He wouldn’t help me get Sam to bed, but he zapped him there a minute ago. God dammit, I’d better go check on him,” Dean groaned, glancing at the kitchen in longing. He wanted to be so fried he forgot all about the events of the evening.

 

“Here, bucko. I’ll check on Gigantor,” Gabriel offered, handing Dean a bottle of whiskey she’d snapped into existence. Dean gave her a look of heartfelt thanks and sank to the bottom step with the bottle at his lips. Gabriel popped into the room upstairs, wondering how much alcohol to clear out of Sam’s system to get the full story. Seeing that Cas had literally only assured that Sam was mostly on the bed, Gabriel shook her head and snapped her fingers, changing Sam’s clothes into pajamas, rearranging him into a position that looked more comfortable, and covering him with the blanket.

 

“Who’s ‘ere?” Sam mumbled, one eye opening blearily. Seeing Gabriel, he started to smile, but then made a hurt expression.

 

“Hey, kiddo. Let me clear some of the alcohol out of your system so we can talk, ‘kay?” Gabriel said, moving to sit on the edge of Sam’s bed. Sam moved away when she tried to touch his forehead, however, and Gabriel frowned. “You okay, kiddo?”

 

“Hurts,” Sam whined. Gabriel touched Sam’s forehead to determine if he was injured and found that he wasn’t before clearing enough of the alcohol that Sam would stay conscious enough to talk, but probably not remember it.

 

“What hurts? You aren’t injured by what I can tell,” Gabriel asked, a little worried.

 

“You bein’ in her body,” Sam replied, making Gabriel’s breath catch. “Makes it hard .”

 

“Sh, I know, kiddo,” Gabriel soothed as Sam’s face started scrunching up like he was going to cry.

 

“But it’s harder for you. You’re in her body ’n’ not in the good way,” Sam mumbled, shifting until his head rested on Gabriel’s lap. “’n’ it makes it hard ‘cause I miss her ‘n’ ‘cause I like you ‘n’ I’m afraid if I like you, it’s a bad, bad thing ‘cause I liked her ‘n’ I like you but if I acted on it, I might get your permission but I can’t get hers ‘n’ you can’t either.”

 

“Kiddo, I hope you don’t remember this when you wake up,” Gabriel sighed, smoothing Sam’s hair back from his face.

 

“Won’t matter if I ‘member. Still feel it,” Sam pointed out in a very matter-of-fact voice that would’ve been more convincing if Gabriel wasn’t afraid the giant was going to start drooling on her in his drunkenness. Sam closed his eyes for a second and Gabriel thought he’d fallen asleep before he mumbled, “’s nice.”

 

“What, me brushing your hair back? Yeah, probably is. You never had a whole lot of softness anywhere in your life,” Gabriel remarked more to herself than to her companion. She couldn’t lie to herself and say she hadn’t started forming some sort of connection with Sam. It’d started as good fun with Ase, but it’d become something else—something that scared Gabriel a little bit. Connections just caused pain.

 

“Stay?” Sam asked, opening his eyes halfway.

 

“Yeah, I’ll stay ‘til you’re asleep, kiddo,” Gabriel promised, a melancholy smile on her lips. Sam nodded and wrapped his arms around the archangel, snuggling as close to her as he could. Gabriel mused that she could just put Sam to sleep, but she didn’t. She hadn’t had a whole lot of softness in her life either.

 

It was only after Sam had been asleep for an hour or two that she realized she hadn’t got the information she came for.


	5. Snowblind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, halfway through the chapter, I had writer’s block and crack was the only way to fix it. Sorry not sorry. Pretend it’s less crack-ish after you’ve read it if it’s too much.

…

 

Chapter 5: Snowblind

 

_Let the winter sun shine on_

_Let me feel the frost of dawn_

_Fill my dreams with flakes of snow_

_Soon I'll feel the chilling glow_

_Don't you think I know what I'm doing_

_Don't tell me that it's doing me wrong_

_You're the one who's really the loser_

_This is where I feel I belong_

 

…

 

 

“D’you think we ought to look for Cas or something?” Bobby suggested after breakfast. There was a second of silence in which Dean shrugged.

 

“Nah, he’ll be back soon,” he remarked, sounding and looking completely unconcerned.

 

“You sure? He usually tells someone before he leaves for more than an hour or two,” Sam pointed out, massaging the back of his neck absently. He’d slept soundly, sure, but he must not’ve been very comfortable—of course, the lack of a hangover was enough to make him accept the soreness. He should’ve been suffering, if his lack of memory was any indicator of how much alcohol he’d consumed.

 

“Yeah, he probably needs a few days away from all of us. He was here almost two weeks,” Dean returned easily, not looking away from the television. Sam shared a confused look with Bobby. He shrugged before moving toward the dining room table to get back to researching. Bobby headed to the kitchen to make a few calls. Sam wasn’t overly surprised to find that Gabriel had followed him.

 

“Does any of your research say anything about Lilith and the Apocalypse?” Gabriel asked after a few minutes of silence.

 

“Not about her particularly, why?” Sam asked, frowning. Gabriel sighed. “Do you know something?”

 

“Yeah. I have to be careful where and when I kill her,” she answered, her expression sour.

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, setting his book aside to turn his full attention to Gabriel.

 

“You know how she’s been working on those seals, right? Well, she’s the last one. She has to die in a ritual and then one big bro gets free and dukes it out with the other one,” Gabriel answered before looking up at Sam through her fallen hair. “ _You_ can’t kill her, do you understand? _You_ ’re supposed to kickstart the big end battle that way.”

 

“But it won’t start it if you do it?” Sam asked, trying not to get distracted by the very touchable dark honey hair falling in the impish woman’s eyes as he leaned closer to listen.

 

“If it was ritual time, it wouldn’t matter much. Luci would still be free to roam. That’s why we have to _make sure_ we don’t catch her in the ritual. If I sense her, I’ll kill her. It would be very difficult for me to restrain myself even if she was ritually-ready,” Gabriel admitted. Sam watched as uncertainty, hardness, anger, and pain swirled in the whiskey-colored eyes, not knowing what he could possibly do. After a moment, Gabriel sighed and set an old pottery jar on the table. “If it comes down to it, make a circle with this, trick me inside, and light it on fire. I won’t be able to cross it and the shock and limit on my power should be enough to make me pause. I could still kill Lilith inside it—archangels are too powerful to be _completely_ contained and she’ll want to die—but it will hopefully be enough.”

 

“What is this? Some sort of oil?” Sam asked, glancing in the jar. Neither seemed to be aware that the motion brought them even closer together.

 

“Very old and difficult to find oil. Don’t waste it. There isn’t a lot in existence,” Gabriel answered carefully, voice low in warning and secrecy. Sam caught himself drowning in those whiskey-colored eyes and nearly cursed, knowing he needed to do something about their budding whatever-the-hell-this-way sooner rather than later. Gabriel seemed to pick up on his thoughts and plopped back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, breaking up the moment. “Just don’t use it unless you have to, okay, kiddo? I’m hoping I’ll get to her before she gets the chance to set any of it up.”

 

“Yeah, got it.”

 

…

 

After a week with no Cas, Sam and Bobby started getting worried—especially when Dean and Gabriel seemed to completely ignore the missing angel. When Gabriel announced she was headed to the kitchen, Bobby shot Sam a look and Sam followed with a reluctant sigh.

 

“Hey, Gabe. You got a second?” Sam asked. The archangel looked at him around the refrigerator door and rolled her eyes.

 

“I don’t have much _besides_ time, Sammy-boy. What do you need?” she asked, shutting the refrigerator door and turning toward the cabinet. She tried to reach one of the glasses inside and Sam could feel her irritation as he stepped forward to retrieve it for her. “I could’ve snapped it to me.”

 

“Yeah, but there’s no reason for you to waste your power,” Sam pointed out, watching as the archangel filled half the cup with chocolate syrup before adding milk. She worked in silence as she stirred the mixture until it resembled slightly thinner syrup. After tasting it, she frowned and grabbed powdered sugar. With every appearance of performing an intensive chemistry experiment, she added the sugar before stirring it, testing it again, and smiling.

 

“So, what was it you wanted, Sammy?” she asked, turning toward him.

 

“Don’t you think that somebody should go check on Cas? He’s been gone for a week without anybody hearing from him,” Sam pointed out, not feeling any need to lead up to the conversation. Gabriel brushed past him with her intensely-sweetened chocolate milk.

 

“I’ve heard from him,” she answered evenly.

 

“You’ve…You’ve heard from him?” Sam asked, not able to control the suspicion edging into his tone. Gabriel shrugged.

 

“Yeah. He’s looking for clues on Lilith. We agreed that it would be safer to send him on scouting missions than it would be to send me,” she stated nonchalantly as she snapped a cake into existence and drew a knife to cut it. “Cake, kiddo?”

 

“Uh, no thanks,” he dismissed.  “What do you mean you agreed that it would be safer to send Cas? She could kill him.”

 

“He won’t find her that easily. He’s just tracking signs to try to find an area she’s likely to be in instead of actually finding her—y’know, like humans do with electrons,” Gabriel replied easily, turning back toward the hunter to lean against the counter, a plate of cake in one hand and chocolate milk in the other. Sam could feel the dry look coming over his face and saw the archangel’s eyes harden in return.

 

“Electrons are unpredictable. He could actually run into her,” Sam pointed out. “Why can’t you just call him back? He hasn’t been answering any of us.”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to come back, Sammy. Considered that?” Gabriel retorted. “Maybe he got tired of dealing with jackass hunters all the time.”

 

“If he left, it wouldn’t be because of us. It would be because of _you_ and _you_ haven’t been as much of a dick as usual lately, so that can’t be it,” Sam countered. Gabriel set the cup and plate on the counter behind her and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“Oh, is that what you think of me? I’m not being a dick now, so little brother wouldn’t run away. Let me tell you something, _Sammy-boy_ , your brother’s been more of a dick to that angel than _I_ ever have and Cas doesn’t get as irritated with me as you guys do anyway. Cas left because he _chose_ to, bucko, and he won’t come back until he’s worked through some things,” Gabriel declared, her stance betraying no hint of doubt or backing down. Sam crossed his own arms over his chest.

 

“Yeah? What could he possibly be trying to work through that none of us could help with? Cas wouldn’t leave unless he had to,” Sam returned stubbornly.

 

“Maybe it was something you idiots aren’t capable of dealing with,” Gabriel hinted, one eyebrow raised. Sam’s confusion vied with his anger for a moment.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked finally, tersely. He hoped the archangel wouldn’t mistake his momentary confusion for backing down. Gabriel crooked a finger at him to make him come closer and Sam did so obediently, leaning down until he was more at her level.

 

“Ask Dean what happened when you got drunk,” she whispered in his ear before snapping her fingers and disappearing, the cake and milk vanishing with her.

 

Sam stood there for a moment before heading back toward the living room, scratching the back of his neck absently. Had he said something to scare off the angel? Hell, he hadn’t been blackout drunk in a long time, but Dean always insisted he was more of a comical drunk than a hurtful one and his tipsy experiences went along with that.

 

“Hey, Dean? Can I talk to you for a second?” Sam asked. Dean frowned from where he was lounging on the couch, but threw his feet to the floor to get up anyway.

 

“What was worth me getting off my ass for?” Dean grumbled as he followed Sam to the kitchen. Sam scratched the back of his neck again.

 

“Er, what happened when I was drunk a week ago? Gabriel said that’s why Cas is gone,” he asked. Dean’s expression hardly changed, but Sam could tell that his brother’s stress-levels had just gone through the roof. “Dean, what did I do? I must’ve said something terrible if he’s been gone for a week!”

 

“It wasn’t anything you did, Sammy,” Dean remarked through clenched teeth. Sam stared at his brother in confusion for a long moment.

 

“Then…what happened?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as undemanding as possible. He didn’t want to make Dean mad before he could get an answer. Dean rubbed his hand down his face, stalling.

 

“Cas was, uh, not himself. He was drunk,” Dean hazarded, trying to find some way to satisfy his brother's curiosity without telling him the angel had tried to make a move on him. He could see in Sam’s frown that his younger brother still blamed himself. “It, uh, wasn’t anything to do with you, though.”

 

“Wasn’t anything to— _oh_ ,” Sam remarked, his expression surprised enough that Dean would’ve found it funny any other time. The face morphed into anger before Dean could say anything. “What did you do to him?”

 

“It’s not so much what Dean did as what Cas was _trying_ to do,” Gabriel remarked lightly as she popped into the space in front of the refrigerator again. Sam frowned at the archangel as she got out the chocolate syrup to add more to her glass before turning his puzzled expression toward Dean.

 

“What’s she talking about, Dean?” he asked. Dean shot Gabriel a nasty look as he rubbed the side of his face again.

 

“Cas was a, uh, bit of a—,” Dean managed before Gabriel snorted.

 

“— _friendly_ drunk? Well, he was friendly to _you_ , Sasquatch, but he was comin’ on to your brother pretty strong,” she interrupted. Dean looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel, but Gabriel didn’t turn around. “Well, now that I’ve got this fixed, I’ll take myself back out of your conversation. Toodles!”

 

“Oh, God, I HATE HER,” Dean seethed, turning for the back door. Before Sam had recovered enough to ask Dean what the hell Gabriel was talking about, the back door slammed and the Impala’s engine started up. Sam blinked at the back door before turning to go back to the living room.

 

“You wanna tell me what happened, boy?” Bobby asked, one eyebrow raised as he glanced toward Sam.

 

“I…You don’t wanna know, Bobby. Honestly.”

 

…

 

In the end, it was Gabriel that forced Cas to come back. Not directly, of course. Gabriel wouldn’t force her brother to deal with his apparent latent attraction to the older Winchester for love or money—maybe laughs, but there was too high a chance of angst for her to risk it. No, it was her absolute pranking of the household that drew Castiel back. Gabriel had become outright cold in the pranks and, with all three hunters begging for help, it was a prayer Castiel couldn’t ignore.

 

Of course, adding Castiel back into the mix when Gabriel was in stuck a ruthless mood was also bound to cause its own issues.

 

Issues like having a seraph running around with his wrists bound behind him in fuzzy pink handcuffs with his mouth duct taped shut. Each attempt he made to use his Grace to free himself caused unexpected chaos instead, so he resolved to find one of the hunters and get them to manually remove his restraints.

 

So it was that Dean woke up to find the bound Castiel staring at him pleadingly from beside his bed.

 

The shouted curse that followed was _totally_ dignified and manly. Or so Dean would insist to anyone who happened to hear the tale, which he hoped would be no one.

 

“Dude, we’ve talked about this. You can’t stare at people while they’re sleeping—it’s fucking creepy, especially like that. What the hell’s going on?” Dean asked. Castiel found himself unable to communicate with his charge telepathically, but he had heard humans say that the eyes were the windows to the soul and he thought maybe he could inform Dean of the situation through his.

 

So he stared at Dean. Hard.

 

And then, realizing it wasn’t working, he proceeded to turn around to show the hunter his handcuffs.

 

Dean choked on air.

 

Cas gestured toward the door, the ceiling, anything that might represent Gabriel, struggling to communicate in any way he could.

 

Once Dean stopped spluttering and started paying attention to Cas’s distress, he frowned.

 

“Did Gabriel do this to you?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded, relief flooding his face. “That bitch’s going to get herself ganked pretty soon if she keeps it up, Cas. I don’t care if she’s your sister. C’mere and let me get the duct tape off your mouth.”

 

Castiel obediently went to stand before Dean, avoiding looking the hunter in the eyes. Being in his bedroom after the clusterfuck that was Castiel’s drunken attempt to woo him was about the last thing Castiel would have desired.

 

Especially bound and gagged.

 

He was at Dean’s mercy.

 

Being at Dean’s mercy did unholy things to his vessel.

 

It took everything in him to keep from leaning into the touch of the fingertips tugging at the corner of the duct tape.

 

“Uh, Cas, I hate to break this to you, but I think it’s stuck. It’s not coming off. Could she have mojo’d it there?” Dean asked, scrubbing his jaw with his hand absently. Cas nodded, still not looking at the hunter. “Well, fuck. Bobby might be able to help, but I doubt it. C’mon. Let’s go find him.”

 

Castiel followed Dean down the hall, his eyes not leaving his own feet. He waited in the hall as Dean woke Bobby up and explained the situation. Bobby demanded coffee and headed toward some of the books stashed in the living room.

 

When Sam crawled downstairs in search of his morning caffeine fix an hour later, all three were sitting at the dining room table, Bobby and Dean flipping through books while Cas stared at the wall with a contemplative and moderately ticked off expression.

 

“Uh, guys?” Sam asked, taking in the scene.

 

“That damned trickster,” Bobby sighed in explanation, gesturing toward Castiel. “Go put on some more coffee, boy.”

 

“It’s too early for this,” Sam mumbled as he went to obey. Turning on the tap resulted in Sam getting drenched by the old rubber-band-on-the-sprayer trick. He did his best to ignore it and proceeded to clean the coffee pot before putting more on. When that resulted in coffee going everywhere _but_ the coffeepot, Sam began to wonder if it was personal—as they all had since Gabriel had started her intense pranks.

 

When the handle of the coffeepot glued itself to his hand and he discovered his shoelaces were tied together by falling, he decided it had to be personal. And that he definitely didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

 

“GABRIEL, YOU’VE GOT TO LET ME _AT LEAST_ DRINK SOME COFFEE BEFORE YOU START THIS—THIS _SHIT_ ,” he roared from the floor.

 

“Why? It’s so much funnier this way,” Gabriel remarked, sitting on the last clean portion of the counter.

 

“This isn’t funny, Gabriel. Let Cas free and put the kitchen back in order,” Sam commanded. Rosebud lips pursed up in consideration.

 

“Hmm, how about no?” she decided, hopping off the counter. Her expression turned darker. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do, Sammy-boy. I’m bigger and stronger than you could ever hope to be and if I want to play around with all of you for awhile, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

 

“I thought we were _friends_ , Gabriel,” Sam ground out. Gabriel rolled her eyes.

 

“Did you _really_ forget that I’m a trickster, bucko? Tricksters don’t really do ‘friends.’”

 

“Right, instead you manipulate your daughter into becoming your own personal sex slave or whatever the hell you want to call what you did to Ase.”

 

Once the words were out of Sam’s mouth, he realized he’d made a terrible mistake. It was an unfair low blow and he was already at the archangel’s mercy.

 

“I, uh, didn’t mean that.”

 

“You know, I’m beginning to see the resemblance. Luci’ll _love_ digging through your mind once he jumps your bones. Hell, you may even give him a few ideas.”

 

“Gabri—.”

 

“No, you’re going to be quiet now. The question is: what should I do to you? Drop you in the Labyrinth? Stick you bound in the middle of a horror film? Send you to a gay bar naked covered in chocolate sauce and pheromones?” Gabriel mused, circling Sam where she had him immobilized on the ground. A quick snap and he was restrained and silenced the same way as Castiel. “So. Many. Options. Oooh, maybe that’s it. Maybe I should just send you all trussed up to that demon bitch that’s been circling you like you’re the freshest kill. Give little Sammy Winchester to demon Ruby and watch as he poisons himself into a nightmare.”

 

“Get the Hell away from Sammy,” Dean threatened, appearing in the doorway. Gabriel quirked a brow.

 

“Or what, bucko? You gonna threaten me to death?”

 

“If you don’t let Sam and Cas go, I’ll banish you, Gabriel, and set up holy oil rings all over the house to trap you in if you come back.”

 

“Ooh, careful with your sweet words, big boy. You might make a girl swoon.”

 

“I get it, Gabriel. I really do. You’re ticked ‘cause you can’t find a lead on Lilith and you’re starting to feel attached from hanging around so much, so you’re trying to drive us aw—.”

 

“This has _nothing_ to do with you, bucko. I’m a trickster. I prank douchebags for a living, when I’m not going all archangel wrath on upstart demons. Anyway, have fun trying to free your angel and your brother. I’ve got some interrogation to do. Hasta luego, Deano.”

 

…

 

Twelve hours.

 

Twelve fucking hours of research and calls before they got Sam and Cas free.

 

In the end, it was a trick in and of itself.

 

Sam was the one that found out. Sick and tired of being unable to do anything, he went back upstairs to go back to bed. As soon as he hit the mattress, his handcuffs came off and he could pull the duct tape from his mouth.

 

Naturally, Gabriel set it up so Cas had to get into Dean’s bed to get free, but nobody talked about it and it was fine.

 

A few well-placed banishing sigils and holy oil rings provided protection for when Gabriel returned.

 

Castiel was the only one who seemed inclined to find her. It was only because of him that they didn’t put up wards to keep the archangel out altogether. That Castiel wouldn’t explain his refusal only irked them further, but they assumed that he would have a good reason for it and they’d find out eventually.

 

What Castiel didn’t say was that he’d felt the growing cold in his sister’s Grace. Her pledge to kill Lilith was making her burn colder than usual. Gabriel was the warmest of the archangels—the mellow noonday sun—but her pledge was slowly altering her grace. She was turning cold and Castiel knew they had to stop it somehow because when the warmest star cools, it collapses.

 


	6. Black Blade

…

 

Chapter 6: Black Blade

 

_I have this feeling that my luck is none too good_

_This sword here at my side don't act the way it should_

_Keeps calling me its master, but I feel like its slave_

_Hauling me faster and faster to an early, early grave_

_And it howls, it howls like hell_

 

…

 

“I know you know something, demon. I know you’re working for Lilith—there’s no reason to lie now,” Gabriel stated, waving her blade under Ruby’s chin. Gabriel had made short work of chaining her inside a devil’s trap, but he hadn’t started torturing her. Yet.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to stop her,” Ruby stated, glaring at the angel. Gabriel smiled tightly.

 

“Right, because stalking Lucifer’s vessel with intentions to addict him to demon blood is going to stop her,” she remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe you didn’t hear me when I introduced myself. I’m Gabriel, God’s Messenger. Lies don’t work on me.”

 

“You can’t do anything to stop her, messenger. Sam Winchester will kill Lilith and free Lucifer. You have to see the truth in that,” Ruby mocked. Anything else she was going to say was drowned in screams as Gabriel carved into her abdomen.

 

“Listen to me very carefully, Hell-bitch: _I_ will kill Lilith. No one else. And I won’t be letting big brother out of timeout when I do. Now, you can help me find her and guarantee yourself a quick smiting or we can take our time with it. Either way, I’ll kill you both.”

 

“Go fuck yourself, feathers.”

 

…

 

Gabriel was covered in blood and bits of demon when Castiel found her. Cas stood silently as Gabriel cleaned her blade, not looking at the havoc she’d wrecked.

 

“Gabriel, you need to break your vow. It will be painful, but keeping it is harming you,” Castiel stated after a long moment.

 

“I can’t, Castiel. Archangels are absolute. A pledge in our Grace is as certain as the Word of God,” Gabriel answered quietly. A moment of silence followed before she added, “The blade won’t get clean. It’s stained black with the blood of the demon. You know what that means.”

 

“Your Grace is tainted,” Castiel acknowledged. Since an angel’s weapon was a manifestation of their Grace, the inability to clean Gabriel’s blade meant that her Grace was stained. “Let me help you, sister.”

 

Gabriel snorted. “‘Sister,’ you say. When Lucifer started to Fall, did you call him brother?”

 

“We can find Lilith together, Gabriel.”

 

“Before or after I become something just as bad, Castiel?”

 

“Gabriel, please. Come back with me. Let us help you.”

 

“No. It’s better if I stay away. I’m dangerous, Castiel. An archangel losing control isn’t something to keep in an enclosed space.”

 

“Gabriel…”

 

“No, Castiel. I can’t.”

 

They stayed silent for a long moment, Gabriel still refusing to look at Castiel as Castiel stared at her. A bundle manifested in Gabriel’s hands and she lifted it toward Castiel without looking.

 

“The Horn of Gabriel to call Heaven to your aid, a spell to bind even an archangel, and an Archangel’s Sword to kill one. Take them and swear to me that you will use them when necessary.”

 

“Gabriel…. I have faith that it will not come to that, sister, but I give you my word.” Castiel knelt beside his sister as he took the bundle. “Now let me help you in your search.”

 

“No, Castiel, you need to protect your charges. You are the last defense in this war. Hold your post and protect your charges at all costs.”

 

“No harm will befall them, Gabriel.”

 

…

 

“Duck, Sam!” Dean exclaimed before throwing the knife in his hand. Thankfully, Sam obeyed and the knife caught the vampire square in the right eye. Sam followed up his brother’s attack by taking the vamp’s head off.

 

“Dude, how many are left?” he asked, joining his brother.

 

“I don’t know—three maybe? It’s the biggest nest we’ve seen in a long time, Sammy,” Dean answered, taking the knife his brother returned.

 

“Yeah, I know. You counted seven earlier, right? All right, three left then, yeah. Should we wait for them here or go after them?”

 

“They might try to run. Follow my lead, all right?”

 

“Right, ‘cause I was planning to go off on my own in the middle of a hunt.”

 

“Sam.”

 

“All right, all right.”

 

Carefully, the brothers made it out the door and headed toward the entrance of the warehouse, knowing it was the only way anyone—vamps or otherwise—would be getting out. Once they were securely stationed there, the silence and stillness of the warehouse became overwhelming.

 

“You think they found another exit?” Sam grunted after half an hour of tense listening.

 

“I don’t know, man. You watch the door while I check?” Dean requested quietly. At Sam’s curt nod, Dean headed back toward the stairs. The three vampires dropped from the ceiling onto Sam as soon as Dean was halfway across the room. “Son of a bitch!”

 

“Dude, your knife,” Sam reminded Dean as he scrambled up to block the door. Although it wasn’t the easiest throw in his life, Dean managed to aim his machete at the largest vampire’s back, stopping its rampage momentarily as he went to join the brawl.

 

Ten minutes later, the brothers were tending their wounds as the burning building got progressively smaller in the Impala’s rearview mirror.

 

“Cut on your arm looks nasty, Dean. You should stop and let me look at it,” Sam murmured from where he was applying pressure to a nasty gash on his own leg.

 

“Gotta make sure the cops don’t find us first. I’ll be fine ‘til the motel.”

 

“Just…get there soon, okay?”

 

“You okay, Sammy?”

 

“Yeah, man, just don’t take your time, all right? I’ve had worse.”

 

“You need me to call Cas?”

 

“Nah, we’ve handled worse without angels before. We’re cool. Just get us to the motel.” Sam’s voice had turned softer, beginning to sound the slightest bit garbled and it made Dean look over frantically.

 

“You sure, Sammy? You ain’t lookin’ too hot over there.”

 

“’m fine….Jerk.”

 

“Sammy? Sammy, hey, stay awake over there,” Dean instructed, hissing as he moved his hurt arm to shake his brother’s shoulder. Sam mumbled indistinctly and Dean’s heartrate skyrocketed as he noticed the blood sashing his brother’s pantleg. “ _Sam_ , keep your eyes open.”

 

Sam’s eyes opened blearily at the blatant command in his brother’s voice, his body shifting slightly in the seat before they fluttered closed again.

 

“Shit. Cas, we need help—Sam’s injured pretty bad,” Dean prayed absently, gunning the engine as he read off the streetnames to give Cas an idea of where to find him. When his phone rang, he flipped it open without thought. “Hello?”

 

“Dean, I won’t be able to arrive quickly. I was following a lead in Hell. If it’s an emergency, you’ll have to call Gabriel,” Cas answered slightly breathlessly.

 

“Shit, okay, man, just get out of there safely, I’ll call you later,” Dean answered all in one breath before dropping his phone. “Gabriel, Sam’s in trouble and Cas is busy. We need your help.”

 

When a minute passed without answer, Dean let out a completely undignified whimper before straightening his shoulders and further speeding up, the engine whining in protest. If Dean could get Sam to the motel, he could fix it—of course he could, it was his brother. He just had to make it to the hotel first.

 

…

 

“Sam will be fine now, Dean. You must calm down,” Castiel’s low, urgent voice broke through some of the heaviness in Sam’s mind. “His leg is healed and his concussion is gone.”

 

“He could’ve _died_ , Cas,” Dean snapped, his voice quieter than normal.

 

“He did not die and was not in immediate danger of doing so. Even if a horde of demons had attempted to trap me in Hell, I would have returned before his plight turned desperate,” Cas soothed.

 

“That isn’t the point. Gabriel—Sam likes her and trusts her, Cas. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time and I don’t want him to get hurt more than he already has. If Gabriel can’t get her head out of her ass long enough to heal him, then I don’t see how she’s helping to stop the apocalypse at all. We _need_ Sam to do that, even if she wouldn’t heal him as her friend. I know she likes him.”

 

“Gabriel has always behaved in unexpected ways, Dean, but this may have been out of her control. If she had a lead on Lilith, she would not be able to stop for anything—not even to save Sam’s life. Now that her Grace is tainted by this revenge, it is harder for her than ever to focus on anything but the chase.”

 

“What’dya me’n, tain’ed?” Sam managed inarticulately, blinking his eyes open. Cas froze to look at him as Dean came over and knelt at his side.

 

“Hey, how you feeling, man?” Dean asked, brushing Sam’s hair back in a half-hidden check for fever.

 

“Kinda groggy,” Sam admitted.

 

“Yeah, Cas said you might still be a little disoriented after the blood loss. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital trip, but it was enough to affect you,” Dean explained softly, instantly going to help as Sam started trying to sit up.

 

Once he was settled against the headboard, Sam repeated, “What did you mean by tainted? What’s wrong with Gabriel?”

 

“An archangel’s vow is absolute and must be completed. The delay to killing Lilith is changing the mark on her Grace, darkening and growing. Gabriel will become colder and more uncontrolled until the vow is completed and, even if it were completed now, it will take significant time and washing of brighter essences to return her to what she was,” Castiel explained quietly.

 

“What…What if she doesn’t complete it?” Sam asked cautiously.

 

“We’ll have a mad archangel on our hands while we’re trying to keep Lucifer caged against Michael’s wishes. Sounds like a blast, right, Sammy?” Dean answered.

 

“Gabriel has made preparations for if she loses control,” Cas remarked, keeping his eyes locked on Sam’s. Sam swallowed uneasily and gestured for more information, throat too dry to speak. A bundle formed in Castiel’s hand and he gave it to Sam with a warning look. Sam opened it to look inside. “The Horn is Gabriel’s and will call Heaven’s Host to our aid if necessary. They will join us and, facing a Fallen, will assist in eradicating her, but will not obey us or stay with us afterward, so we must be careful if we use it. The spell is the strongest binding spell known to the Host, trusted only to the Archangels. It was used by Michael on Lucifer to immobilize him before he could be thrown into the pit. The sword is also Gabriel’s, an Archangel Sword to kill an archangel. She retains her Archangel Blade to kill Lilith, so it would likely require both the binding spell and the aid of the Host to successfully kill her armed against us. ”

 

“She gave you something so powerful?” Dean asked curiously. Castiel gave some answer that sparked a conversation between them, but the gears in Sam’s mind were turning too quickly for him to pay attention.

 

“Cas, do you understand any of the runes on the Horn?” Sam asked suddenly.

 

“Some of them, yes. Others are Words of God and may only be understood by the one to whom they were intended, in this case Gabriel.”

 

“But you can read some of them?”

 

“Yes, I believe that is what I just said.”

 

“Okay, well, what if we can use the spells on the Horn to create one of our own—one that could call out the First Demon? We could use some of those sigils and bits of a summoning ritual—then we can use the spell to trap her and the Sword to kill her. We’ve broken down spells before and if we could do that to this, then we could get Lilith and kill her without it being the last seal.”

 

“Interesting. I believe that it may be worth attempting. If Lilith is killed with Gabriel’s Sword, it should complete her vow as well. I will begin examining the Horn immediately.”

 

“Let’s head to Bobby’s so we’ve got more resources to work with. You be okay for the ride, Sammy?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine now, dude. Let’s just get on the road so we can make this spell and gank Lilith.”

 

…

 

“Why the fuck are we having so much trouble with this?” Dean grumbled exasperatedly, setting the book he’d been studying into his lap so he could rub at his tired eyes.

 

“Neither of the spells we are attempting to combine are simple, Dean,” Castiel reminded him patiently from where he was taking neat notes as he examined Gabriel’s Horn. “Better that it causes us trouble and works than that it seem simple and prove ineffective.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean sighed.

 

“Dude, go take a break for a few. Me’n’Cas’ve got it for now,” Sam offered softly. Dean stood up and stretched, not quite willing to just leave.

 

“Want some coffee or something?”

 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Sam agreed absently before frowning. “Maybe pick me up a salad too?”

 

“Yeah, we’ve missed dinner by a few hours now. You need anything, Cas?” Dean asked. Cas frowned in confusion.

 

“I believe we have sufficient supplies to perform the ritual when ready,” he answered uncertainly. Sam and Dean shared a small smile before Dean left the room. Sam and Cas worked in silence for a long while before Cas remarked, “Was I expected to request something?”

 

“Only if you wanted anything. Dean tries not to be rude and you know how much he enjoys convincing you to try human food.”

 

“Yes, Dean does have a preoccupation with making me experience human things.”

 

Sam wasn’t going to touch that statement with a ten foot pole and instead returned to his reading. A sigh from Cas drew his attention, his eyes flickering sharply to lock on the angel’s face.

 

“He is still upset over my behavior while drunk.”

 

“I think you might’ve scared him a little bit. I know he feels deeply about you, but I won’t pretend to understand exactly how. If he likes you the way you like him, he’s probably terrified. He’s never been with a guy before, let alone with an angel in a male vessel,” Sam hazarded. He couldn’t say he’d been dwelling on it, exactly, but he’d certainly thought about it all once or twice between learning the problem and now. It promised to be more easily resolvable than his feelings toward the other angel of their acquaintance.

 

“Do you…think he could…look upon me in the way I look upon him?” Cas asked, shifting slightly in his chair. Sam felt the breath leave his lungs, like it’d been punched out of his body.

 

“Cas, man, I...”

 

“I should not have asked. I apologize, Sam. Your brother can be hard to understand, even for you, yes?”

 

“Yeah, he can be, Cas.” Privately, Sam considered Cas’s question as they both turned back toward their work. Dean loved Cas—perhaps as unconditionally as he loved Sam. If that was the case, Sam had little doubt that Dean would make himself believe he loved Cas romantically to make Cas happy, but he also knew that wasn’t what Cas wanted. If Dean came by that love of his own accord, fine, but if it was out of some ingrained desire to please, it would be unacceptable. Sam just wasn’t sure if he’d be able to tell the difference for Cas. Hell, he wasn’t sure _Dean_ would be able to tell. It was almost as bad as trying to make sense of Gabriel’s attentions to himself and he’d been working on that puzzle for weeks.

 

“You think very loudly, Samuel,” Cas murmured quietly, not looking up from his work.

 

“Er, sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Sometimes you project loudly enough that I can’t block it out. Now I know you truly don’t know if Dean does or could feel as I desire.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, Cas. I wish I could tell you definitively.”

 

“Do not apologize, Sam. I understand.” The scrape of the Horn against the tabletop let Sam know that Cas had moved onto the next section of spells. He returned to the ritual he was studying, taking neat notes on what supplies would be needed, what runes should be written, and what words must be said. “After we kill Lilith, Gabriel will continue trying to push us all away, but she will need us, especially you and I, Sam.”

 

“Why me?” Sam asked, setting his pen down absently. Castiel he could understand—an angel’s Grace could help cleanse another’s, certainly, and angels had the bond of brotherhood to draw upon as needed—he knew they’d been growing close after Gabriel had revealed himself. What he didn’t know if how the boy with demon blood could possibly help.

 

“Gabriel is…attached to you…and human souls are brilliant. You would provide more cleansing power over his Grace than I possibly could.”

 

“But what about the demon blood?”

 

“Sam, your soul is bright. The stain is slight and your soul has fought it since it was given. I have no doubt that your soul would be bright enough to help cleanse Gabriel of her darkness. Your soul is so much more than a stain unwillingly-received in your infancy.”

 

Sam looked away from Castiel’s gaze, his heart hammering. What was Cas saying—Cas, the one who casually called him stained, tainted, the boy with demon blood,  abomination? Castiel, his first introduction to angels, was the first angel to dismiss him as something unclean and make him doubt the deep faith he’d always held, negating all the prayers he’d ever said. Was Castiel telling him he had some worth? No, impossible—better to assume he was misunderstanding.

 

“Samuel,” Castiel suddenly said firmly. Sam looked up, meeting the angel’s fierce gaze. “You are more than the demon blood, Sam. You are a bright, kind, _good_ soul and I am sorry that I was too blinded by Heaven’s brainwashing to see that at first. I should never have made you feel as though you were unworthy of anything good.”

 

It took everything in Sam not to look away. After a moment, Castiel’s eyes softened just a hair, receding from their righteous-fury-intensity.

 

“Perhaps you will see your worth more clearly when you save an Archangel from impurity.”

 

A nervous laugh bubbled from Sam’s lips.

 

“Dude, don’t say it like that. It’s intimidating as Hell. Besides, we’ve got to get this spell worked out and kill Lilith before we can worry about that.”

 

“Of course, Sam.” Another moment of silence passed as they resumed their work. “Is coffee really considered equivalent to the nectar of the gods?”

 

“Did Dean tell you that?”

 

“Yes, shortly before insisting pie was better than ambrosia both in taste and life-preserving capacity.”

 

“I haven’t had nectar and ambrosia, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say he was exaggerating.”

 

“Pity. Do you believe he would let me try his coffee, just in case?”

 

“I’m sure he would.”


	7. Raining Blood

…

 

 

Chapter 7: Raining Blood

 

_The sky is turning red_

_Return to power draws near_

_Fall into me, the sky's crimson tears_

_Abolish the rules made of stone_

_Pierced from below, souls of my treacherous past_

_Betrayed by many, now ornaments dripping above_

_Awaiting the hour of reprisal_

_Your time slips away_

 

…

 

Gabriel sighed in frustration, her hands dipping back below the water as she looked up at the moon. It was a Hunter’s Moon, just after the Harvest Moon on the equinox. The irony was lost on Gabriel at the moment. She looked back down at the blackened blade in her hands and felt the brokenness in her Grace stronger than before. Behind the rage, helping to drive it, lay the deeper wounds. Pain at a family torn apart, betrayal from the abandonment of God, loneliness at entering a new world when all was connected before. The old wounds Gabriel thought were under control—not healed, but not festering or growing—but now the poison of the vow and its slow pace were reopening them, digging deep to envenom the core of her Grace, her very being.

 

She looked up at the moon again.

 

The blood, at least, had washed off her body. The legion of demons had been nothing against the wrath of an archangel. And she’d reveled in the fight, sickly pleased to mete out the justice demanded by their lack of answers when she’d asked after Lilith’s location. Even so, she wished they’d known. The weight of her vow was heavy, pulling her down and away from the light of Heaven. She’d already fallen so far before and now this weight was dragging her further and further away.

 

A part of her wanted it to. For her failures—her failure to stop her brothers’ fight, her failure to be a voice of reason in the Heaven God left behind, her failure to protect Ase, her failure to go to the aid of her friends when they called. She was so broken. She deserved to be fallen.

 

But her Grace cried out under the Hunter’s Moon, crying to a Father long-since gone or hidden for help, hope, love—whatever it was she didn’t know she needed.

 

It was the only bitterness of her Grace that protected her from the crushing silence of the night as she took flight again to sense out another nest of the damned. She would find Lilith and complete her vow before she shattered. She would. Somehow.

 

…

 

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?” Dean asked, hardly glancing away from the television. Cas stood uncertainly for a minute before Dean gestured toward the kitchen. “Grab a beer and come sit down. It’s time we all took a break from this shit for a few.”

 

“Are you certain that is wise?” Cas asked.

 

“Yeah, man. Can’t keep going all the time or we won’t be on our A-game. I already locked the books, sent Sam to some crazy fitness class at the Y, and Bobby left to help Rufus on a simple salt ‘n’ burn a few hours away. Got a few beers and an action movie for me, so you’re the last one,” Dean answered. “Bring the whole pack back with you, will ya? You can stay here with me instead of going back to work.”

 

“Very well, Dean,” Cas agreed reluctantly, heading to the kitchen to get the requested alcohol. When he returned, he gave the pack of beer to Dean and sat stiffly beside him, uncertain of the protocol. Dean popped the cap off a bottle and handed it to him.

 

“Relax, man. That’s the point of a break,” he instructed, lifting his own bottle to his lips. Cas turned his gaze to the television and downed his beer, wishing it was something a great deal stronger. Dean laughed and took the bottle, replacing it with a new one. “Dude, you’re supposed to nurse it, not chug it. It’s a night in, not a frat party.”

 

“I understand,” Cas acknowledged, lifting the new bottle to his lips and taking a sip. Dean nodded his approval and turned his attention back to the movie. Cas kept his eyes on the screen as he listened to Dean’s commentary on the film. They were on the third film and the second pack of beer when Dean shifted and then became so still it drew Castiel’s attention.

 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said hesitatingly. Cas turned to him.

 

“Yes, Dean,” he prompted when Dean didn’t look up at him.

 

“I, uh, I’m sorry about, y’know, freaking out on you and acting weird. It’s just…you’re my best friend, y’know? I don’t wanna lose that—no matter what.”

 

“I will be your friend as long as you allow me to be, Dean.”

 

“Seriously, don’t sell yourself short like that, Cas. You don’t just accept someone’s friendship—you take it, fight for it if you gotta. You’re worth more than just quietly accepting the will of others,” Dean declared, petering out as he realized he’d been rambling. He noticed that Castiel’s eyes had become harder than before, the skin tightening around them as his mouth scrunched into the beginnings of a pout.

 

“I do not understand. What point are you trying to get across, Dean? I know you mean something more than that I shouldn’t accept the will of others,” Castiel requested clarification. Dean scratched the back of his neck.

 

“I’m saying that if you, y’know, want a certain type of relationship from somebody, then you ought to go for it. Y’know, theoretically,” he managed, a blush throwing his freckles into sharp relief.

 

“Theoretically,” Castiel echoed, watching Dean nod uncertainly. “And, in theory, how likely would others be to accept a certain type of a relationship from me?”

 

“I mean, I dunno, Cas. They probably want it too, but they might be nervous, y’know? Friendships and other relationships can be scary. It’s putting yourself out there where you could get hurt, y’know? Maybe you’d just have to go slow and ease ‘em into it.”

 

“You do know that I would never willingly cause harm to you, Dean, don’t you?”

 

“I, uh, yeah, Cas, ‘course I do.”

 

“Good. I believe the next film has started.”

 

“You’re right. You mind seeing if there are still any chips left in the kitchen? I don’t remember finishing them off and Bobby’s the only other one who would have.”

 

“I believe water would also be prudent.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, man. Don’t talk about hangovers when I’m nicely buzzed out.”

 

“Will you drink water if I agree not to mention it again?”

 

“Fine, but only if there are chips left.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes and headed toward the kitchen. At least he knew that some part of Dean would accept his advances. Now he just had to determine when would be best to begin making them in earnest.

 

…

 

It’d taken nearly three weeks, but finally they’d gathered enough information to craft their spell. A ceremonial horn from the fall of Jericho had been engraved with the symbols deemed necessary to call forth the First Demon. Dean was armed with the demon-killing blade and Cas with Gabriel’s Sword. The trapping spell Gabriel had given was carefully marked on the ground in an empty field near Bobby’s house, leaving space for Lilith to turn but no more. Bobby and Sam were prepared with every weakening-spell against demons they could find, sitting far across the room out of danger’s way—they weren’t risking anything apocalypse-wise if they could help it.

 

Once in their places, they all paused to look at one another, readying themselves for the unknown.

 

“Well, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen if we just keep sittin’ here. Blow the horn, Sam,” Bobby instructed. With a nod and a shaky inhale, Sam picked it up and placed it to his lips.

 

A sound like the fabric of space itself ripping proceeded from the horn, shaking the house and nearly toppling the hunters and angel gathered around the circle. The longer the blast went on, the harder the world shook, but Sam kept at it, knowing he couldn’t stop until Lilith appeared or it wouldn’t work. A high-pitched shrieking became apparent over the sound of the horn, soon increasing in volume until the horn couldn’t be heard at all. When it reached that point, a blur of black and red resolved itself into Lilith in the circle.

 

Sam set aside the horn as Bobby began reciting spells, Dean and Cas getting closer to the circle. Lilith laughed, her child’s voice ringing in a profane mockery of innocence.

 

“What a surprise, boys, but if you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask,” she said sweetly. She turned to look at Sam and her smile widened. “Especially you, Sammy. I’ve been waiting for a playdate.”

 

Sam didn’t break from the spell he was saying, ignoring her as he watched Dean move in to gather her attention.

 

“Don’t be like that. Is it because your girlfriend isn’t here? Let me call her,” Lilith murmured. She began muttering in a language the hunters didn’t know and, before anyone could stop her from what she was doing, her call worked. Gabriel appeared directly in front of the circle. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at all that darkness. You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you, Messenger?”

 

“Gabriel, don’t, we’ve got this,” Sam interjected before Gabriel could reply, moving to interfere. Bobby’s hand shot out to grip his shoulder, stopping him.

 

“You know better, boy. Sit this one out. You can’t stop either of ‘em, but you can help Gabriel by keeping up with the spellwork,” he reminded him gruffly. After a moment’s hesitation, he resumed his recitation, his eyes not straying from the tiny immobile archangel in the middle of the room.

 

“What’s the matter, Messenger? Is there something on my face? Maybe it’s just remembering the last time this face looked at that one,” Lilith taunted.

 

“Shut up,” Gabriel growled, Ase’s naturally sweet voice ringing high and sharp instead as Gabriel materialized with her toes edging the central circle containing Lilith.

 

“Make me, Angel,” Lilith murmured, raising on her tiptoes as she made a kissy face at the archangel. Gabriel’s hand was on Lilith’s forehead, glowing brightly, in the blink of an eye.

 

“I’ll burn you out like you burned her out. I’ll burn you out and keep my brother from wreaking havoc on this world,” Gabriel snarled. Lilith smiled, even as the light began to dance under her skin in undefinable patterns.

 

“ _Can_ you?” Lilith whispered, her words unheard by the hunters over their chanting. A strike of darkness joined the glow at their point of contact, swirling and mixing with the light of Grace. Gabriel’s face twisted in determination and Lilith fell to her knees, still smiling as Gabriel followed and leaned toward her. “Because I don’t think you can.”

 

“I will burn you out,” Gabriel repeated determinedly. With another smirk, Lilith closed her eyes and tilted her face up, allowing more contact for Gabriel’s hand.

 

The house began shaking again as the dark swirls grew until they matched the light, both dancing between the angel and the demon. Soon, sparks of both began to move away from the circle, striking out into the room at random.

 

The hunters closed their eyes against the light, Bobby still reciting spells from memory as a high-pitched ringing began to fill their ears. It was different than the edge to Gabriel’s voice and the sound that had preceded Lilith’s arrival, somehow higher, harsher, purer.

 

“Gabriel, she’s tricked you!” Cas shouted suddenly as he grabbed Dean and popped them into the space between Bobby and Sam. “The seal will break!”

 

“It was never about the convent, Messenger. A tainted purity destroying pure taint. Say hello to your brother for me,” Lilith laughed before Gabriel, realizing it was too late and she was weakening from the spiritual warfare, slammed her blade into Lilith’s chest. The blade shattered in a spray of bright, colorful sparks and Lilith slumped bonelessly to the ground.

 

“Close your eyes!” Castiel commanded as he reached for the three hunters to whisk them to safety, safety apparently meaning the Impala parked a hundred yards from the field. “Keep your eyes closed and don’t do anything until I get back.”

 

“Back? Where are you going? …Cas?” Dean asked, a sliver of panic edging into his voice at the lack of response. The high-pitched ringing continued to grow until it began to be as deafening outside as it had been inside, light growing behind their eyelids as they waited with bated breath for _something_ to occur. Some indefinable time later, it all stopped.

 

“Drive. You can open your eyes now,” Castiel instructed icily. Everyone glanced at the backseat on the driver’s side to see Castiel tucked into the corner made by the door, a small glimpse of army green showing between the tan trenchcoat tucked protectively around the body in his arms. Castiel looked grim, his eyes tight and hard.

 

“Is Lucifer…?” Sam prompted haltingly. He jumped as Cas met his gaze in the mirror.

 

“Yes. Lucifer is risen.”


	8. I'm On Fire

…

 

Chapter 8: I’m On Fire

 

_Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby_

_Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley_

_Through the middle of my soul_

_At night I wake up with the sheets sashing wet_

_And a freight train running through the_

_Middle of my head_

 

…

 

It turned out, once they arrived to the relative safety of a hotel seven hours away, that the flash of army green they’d seen was approximately the only discernable piece of Gabriel that Castiel had uncovered. The body he laid on the bed was charred to the degree of unrecognizability. A wisp of dark honey hair stuck to the back of a charred skull, a stretch of fabric, and the stature were the only hints that it was, indeed, Gabriel. All of the hunters waited in silence as Castiel carefully rearranged his sibling until her blackened limbs were straight and her head was at a more natural angle.

 

“Is Gabriel…?” Dean prompted, moving a step closer to his suddenly-pale brother.

 

“Alive, yes. I am uncertain whether or not Gabriel retains enough power to heal both her Grace and her vessel. She may need to find another,” Castiel answered, not looking away from the charred body as he sat down at the edge of the bed and placed his hand on its forehead. “I am going to attempt to speak with my sister. Do not disturb me unless it is an emergency, please.”

 

“Anything we can do to help?” Bobby asked. Castiel looked up to meet Dean’s gaze, seemingly communicating with him for a long moment before he turned back to Gabriel.

 

“It may be helpful to find information on repairing vessels damaged by another angel’s raw Grace. There may be information of which I am unaware,” he answered. Sam jumped up in surprise, looking at the back of Castiel’s head instead of the blackened body.

 

“Lucifer did this?” Sam asked.

 

“Yes, and please refrain from using his name. As his vessel, it may be easier for statements to be taken as prayers and we cannot risk Lucifer hearing you and finding you,” Cas answered. Sam was pale again, so Dean clapped him on the shoulder and steered him toward the door.

 

“Bobby, you know any bookstores close to here that might have something?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, there’s one an hour away in Casper if you’re willing to drive that much longer,” Bobby answered. A glance at Sam and Dean was nodding.

 

“We need the information. We can pick up some food on our way out,” Dean suggested.

 

“Well, get going, boy. I’ll be out after I make a call,” Bobby told him. Dean shepherded Sam out of the door and Bobby went closer to the bed and set a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “How bad is it, boy?”

 

“Very. If Gabriel recognizes the situation of her vessel and attempts to use energy on healing it, it may prove fatal. Her Grace is too weak to heal itself and her vessel, but her emotional attachment may make her risk attempting it,” Cas answered. “I may be able to assist to a certain extent, but I cannot say with any certainty that Gabriel will recover. It is unlikely that my attempts to communicate will be effective given her weakness. Her Grace is not only severely damaged, but still tainted from her time under the unfinished vow.”

 

“Is there anything we can do, then, or are we only gonna be able to sit with our thumbs up our asses waiting to see what happens?”

 

“Pray. If Father is still listening, He may move to save one of His Firstborn.”

 

“Can you keep pretending the books will help, for Sam’s sake?”

 

“Yes. I was hopeful that you could maintain Sam’s spirits. If Gabriel recovers, she will still require care to purify the taint left behind and I have already informed Sam that he would be most helpful in doing so.”

 

“We’ll keep him doing alright, been doing it his whole life anyhow.”

 

“Thank you, Bobby. I believe Dean is getting restless outside.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m headed out. Take care of Gabriel while we’re gone, alright? We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

 

…

 

As it turned out, Cas couldn’t communicate with Gabriel, but he could knock Sam out at four in the morning when the younger Winchester was beginning to look worse for wear but wasn’t moving from the book he was searching through. Castiel sighed as he looked around the room—Bobby asleep on the far bed, Dean on the couch, Sam at the table. Three humans trying to take on something so much bigger than their little minds could truly grasp, and yet Castiel had chosen to forsake his place in Heaven to follow them.

 

He looked at the charred body on the near bed and tried not to focus on the slowly-growing despair in his gut. Shortly after he’d recognized Gabriel and decided to turn his back on Heaven’s plan, Gabriel had helped him to sever his connection to Heaven without reducing his power the same way Gabriel had done centuries ago. Well, severed from Heaven wasn’t quite right, Castiel had to admit to himself. It was more like Gabriel had shown him how to cut out the middleman—how to access Heaven’s reserves of power without going through his superiors. With all the excess the Heavenly Host had, they would be incapable of recognizing the drain if one of them needed power, let alone being able to trace it. Gabriel had done it safely for centuries, after all.

 

It was because of Gabriel that Castiel was able to freely help the Winchesters now. Gabriel, who ran away to avoid taking a side. Would she run away again now that Lucifer was free and the Apocalypse was that much sooner? Would their greatest ally turn tail and run just when needed most? Of course, that was assuming Gabriel recovered at all. Castiel had some very strong doubts on the subject. He hadn’t been able to communicate with her so far and her Grace didn’t seem to be doing anything at all, instead kept close and tight and silent.

 

A whimper drew Castiel’s attention to the younger Winchester brother. Sam’s face was creased in pain, his body shaking ever so slightly where he leaned against the table. Castiel placed his hand on the human’s head and projected calm as much as he could, trying to convince the boy that he and his family were safe and protected. When Sam didn’t respond to the soothing Grace, Cas frowned. Was this an acceptable reason to read the young man’s mind or would it upset him? A particularly pathetic whimper decided for him and he entered Sam’s dreamscape.

 

“It’s too late, Sam. He was weak and I burned him—you can’t fix him with your books and Castiel’s just a Seraph. I can fix him for you, Sam, but you have to say yes soon. He won’t hold out forever,” Sam’s voice came from the distance. Cas followed it to find two Sams facing each other, one holding his hands out in a sign of openness as the other cradled his head in his hands.

 

“I can’t—I can’t—I’ll save Gabriel some other way,” the second Sam mumbled, shaking his head without looking up. The first Sam set a hand gently on the second’s shoulder, not pulling away when he flinched.

 

“I can save Gabriel, Sam. I don’t want him to die either—he’s my brother, remember?” the first Sam pointed out.

 

Castiel froze where he stood. Lucifer was the first Sam? Lucifer was invading Sam’s _dreams_ , less than a day after he’d been freed? How had he found the necessary information so quickly? How had he gone past the wards Castiel had put up?

 

“I don’t believe you,” Sam—the real Sam—mumbled.

 

“I will never lie to you, Sam. I’ve been many things, but I’ve never been a liar and I promise I’ll never lie to you,” Lucifer-wearing-Sam’s-face promised. Castiel began to back as quietly out of the dream as he could—he wouldn’t be able to force Lucifer out, but he could wake Sam up and strengthen the wards around him, hopefully enough to protect his mind.

 

“Castiel, would you like to join our conversation?” Lucifer invited warningly just before Castiel reached the edge of Sam’s mind. Both Cas and Sam froze as Lucifer smiled. “Oh, don’t be shy, little brother. Come here.” Lucifer crooked a finger and Cas went flying, stopping just before reaching the two of them. “What’s this? You aren’t connected to the Host, are you, little Seraph?”

 

“I wish to prevent the Apocalypse and the Host does not,” Cas said by way of explanation, maneuvering to place himself just slightly in front of Sam. Lucifer’s smile hardened.

 

“ _Prevent the Apocalypse_? What kind of nonsense have they been feeding you, Castiel? Michael and I are going to finish this and Heaven and Hell are both preparing for it. How in Heaven do you think a little fledgling like you could prevent it?” Lucifer scoffed.

 

“I believe in the Winchesters. They will stop the Apocalypse and I will aid them in any way I can,” Cas answered, his shoulders locked in place in protest. “Leave here. Sam doesn’t want you here and he deserves to rest after what he’s gone through. Give him time to recover before you begin pestering him.”

 

“Ah, forgive me, I must’ve missed the moment this became a negotiation. Let me remind you that I’m the equivalent of the Earth’s store of nuclear weaponry while you’re nothing more than a cheap water pistol. Do you still want to negotiate?”

 

“Stop,” Sam said quietly, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder. Inside Sam’s dreamscape, it was difficult for Castiel to ignore the all-consuming panic that the human was experiencing. Castiel placed his hand on Sam’s elbow, trying to offer comfort. The dreamscape could become hazardous if Sam didn’t calm down and it would be twice as hard to protect and comfort him with the dangers of untamed panic combined with Lucifer’s presence.

 

Sam suddenly took a step back, covering his ears. “What’s that—What’s that sound?”

 

Before Castiel could even begin to think up an answer, the dreamscape whited out and Castiel found himself back in the motel room with a sickening residual vertigo.

 

“Cas?” Sam crashed quietly, sitting up shakily.

 

“Your dream was real, Sam, yes,” Cas answered the unspoken question, his eyes locked on Gabriel’s charred form as he went to Sam’s side. “I can put wards up to prevent angels from walking in your dreams again.”

 

“But…that light…Was it…?” Sam stuttered. Cas looked at the human and saw a familiar fearful hope in his eyes—the hope that everything would be all right even when there was no possible way it could be.

 

“I am uncertain, Sam, but I believe it was Gabriel interfering. If so, perhaps Gabriel’s Grace is not as weak as it seems.”

 

“Can you just block Lucifer—only Lucifer—from my dreams?”

 

“No, I would be unable to block only one angel, especially one as powerful as Lucifer,” Cas answered reluctantly before adding a sudden realization, eyes locking onto Sam’s face in fierce scrutiny. “You believe Gabriel may try to reach out through your dreams.”

 

“I would rather leave the option open just in case,” Sam answered, eyes mournful in a way that so often made other humans want to scramble to fix the problem.

 

“I can ward the room more thoroughly to see if that will be sufficient to block Lucifer.”

 

“Thanks, Cas.”

 

“You are welcome, Sam. Sleep. I will wake you if you appear distressed again.”

 

…

 

Bobby stayed exactly two days before insisting he could do more good researching in his books at home. Nobody tried to suggest that they all go back to his house. Neither Cas nor Sam seemed inclined to move Gabriel unless necessary, especially with all the heavy wards they’d carved into the room. Dean pretended he hadn’t heard Sam’s nightmare the night they arrived, but he kept Sam in the room as much as possible. The last thing they needed was for Lucifer to have significant access to his brother’s psyche. He didn’t miss the pinched look on Cas’s face at night after Sam had fallen asleep either.

 

Towel wrapped around his hips, Dean sat on the closed toilet lid of the motel bathroom, fiddling with the necklace in his hands. He remembered Sam giving it to him more distinctly than he remembered most of his childhood. It was one of the moments that seemed pivotal—one more time Sam had tried to put faith in their father and discovered that he didn’t need him but Dean, that Dean would always be there to love him and protect him, righting the wrongs of the world to make him happy.

 

Dean wished he could do that now.

 

The past few years had been rough—Dad going missing, Jess dying, Azazel’s plot coming to light, Dad _dying_ and making him promise to kill Sam if he needed to. And, although Dean knew he’d worshiped the ground his father walked on more than he should have, he had the sinking feeling that the past few years were infinitely harder on Sam. Sam had lost his lover, discovered he might become a monster, lost his father, and watched his brother slowly begin to alter and darken under the pressure. Sure, Dean put on a show for him, but Sam had to see it.

 

Just another of Dean’s failures.

 

He sighed, closing his eyes as he held the necklace in one fist. If he could’ve just done a bit better—not dying so their father had to sacrifice himself for him, getting Sam back to Stanford fast enough to save Jess, tracking Azazel down before he found Sam again, getting to Sam’s nursery quicker so he wouldn’t have the demon blood in him—maybe then Dean could’ve been the big brother Sam needed. If only he could fix his failures, maybe now Sam wouldn’t be falling apart over a half-dead archangel while being tormented by another.

 

Dean knew it was all his fault, somehow. Dad had made it clear that mostly everything was his fault.

 

A knock on the door startled Dean out of his thoughts.

 

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked softly. Dean nearly cursed. Here he was, the source of all of his brother’s misery, and Sam was asking if he was okay. He’d bet money Sam was even wearing that Goddamned kicked-puppy look. “Dean?”

 

“’M fine, Sammy. Just getting dressed. Be out in a minute, okay?” Dean sighed crossly.

 

“Okay. I’m—I’m gonna go pick something up for dinner. Burgers okay?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah, sounds great,” Dean answered, waiting for the footsteps indicating Sam had left before he let out a thunderous sigh. He had the giant heartbroken kid looking after him when Sam was the one that needed looking after.

 

“I need a drink,” he muttered to himself, yanking the necklace on before grabbing his clothes. When he was dressed, he opened the door to find Castiel standing no more than a foot from it, scrutinizing him as soon as he appeared. Dean jumped back and nearly tumbled into the bathtub, catching himself on the curtain. “Jesus, Cas, don’t scare me like that!”

 

Cas didn’t answer, instead pulling Dean back to his feet to resume his scrutiny. Normally, Dean would’ve probably shoved past him, but the grip Cas had on his shoulders was firm and Dean had the feeling that trying to move now would end with him trapped against a wall and not in a good way. After a few minutes, Castiel’s expression softened into something like divine sorrow.

 

“You believe the lies you were thinking. You are not under a spell,” he murmured, his grip on Dean’s shoulders softening.

 

“What are you—you were _listening_ to my _thoughts_ again?” Dean demanded, honoring the time-old tradition of covering unwanted emotions with anger.

 

“No, you were _projecting_. I would say _praying_ , but your thoughts didn’t have a specific direction,” Cas replied, eyes hardening a little as Dean tried to hide his feelings. “If there weren’t so many wards on this room, all of Heaven would know how little you value yourself. You must not think like that. Not only is it false, but it would give the angels the information they need to gain your permission to host Michael.”

 

“What are you talking about, ‘host Michael?’ What does that mean, Cas?” Dean demanded, feeling his heartrate speed up. Cas froze and Dean used the hesitation to push his way out of the bathroom, dragging Cas with him. When Cas still hadn’t responded, he repeated, “What are you talking about, Cas?”

 

“You are Michael’s true vessel, just as Sam is Lucifer’s,” Cas answered.

 

“You didn’t think I’d want to know that? God, it was bad enough trying to plan around Lucifer being after Sam, but now I’ve got to worry about Michael coming after me?”

 

“You are the Righteous Man, saved from Hell at the expense of half a garrison. Who else could Michael find worthy? I had not realized before that you were the Michael Sword, but it does not matter. If you do not give Heaven the means to find you and convince you to consent, it is irrelevant.”

 

“This fucking _blows_ , man. What else is gonna go wrong?” Dean muttered, running a hand over his face tiredly.

 

“If you could have as much faith in hope as you have in lies, perhaps you would not be as upset as you are,” Cas remarked. Dean whorled on him angrily, the change not altering Castiel’s stoic expression.

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who the fuck has hope for anything? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the _Apocalypse_ , Cas! We’ve got a dying archangel in the room with two others after our tails! The only thing going _right_ is that I haven’t gotten everyone around me killed yet!” Dean didn’t manage another word before Cas had slammed him back against the wall.

 

“Dean Winchester, you will cease this self-deprecating immediately. You will not lose anyone because you will fight for them and succeed. We are going to beat the Apocalypse and you have value—not as Michael’s vessel, but as _yourself_ ,” Cas growled. Dean tightened his jaw and kept his gaze locked on the entrance across the room, doing his best not to listen to Castiel’s words. He couldn’t listen—to believe something of himself was to risk disappointing himself and everyone else. Cas made an irritated growl deep in his throat and forced Dean to look at him. “You have value, Dean Winchester, and I will make you understand that somehow.”

 

“Cas, don’t, man. You don’t understand. I _can’t_ ,” Dean stressed, trying not to sound as broken as he felt. He held Castiel’s gaze until Cas nodded and slowly lowered him back to the ground. Dean saw Cas’s gaze flicker suddenly toward his lips and his already rapid-heartrate sped up, his face flushing. Cas’s face crinkled into a little smile.

 

“I love it when you blush, Dean,” he stated before leaning forward just enough to brush Dean’s lips with his own. When Cas stepped back, he looked toward the door. “It may be prudent for me to check on Sam. Outside of the warding, his mind is susceptible to Lucifer’s connection.”

 

“Yeah, probably a good idea. I’ll, uh, stay here and watch Gabriel,” Dean managed, scratching the back of his neck. He appreciated Castiel’s quick excuse, even if part of him was thinking maybe he needed another kiss just to determine what he thought of them. Instead of commenting, he watched Cas vanish and then turned to sit on the edge of the couch. With a shaky laugh, he remarked, “Friggin’ angels,” and then threw himself backward along the length of the couch.


	9. The Man Who Sold the World

…

 

Chapter 9: The Man Who Sold the World

_Who knows?_

_Not me_

_We never lost control_

_You're face to face_

_With the man who sold the world_

 

…

 

It turned out that, given special angel-hiding rib carvings, Sam was capable of being essentially untraceable when he wanted to be. It also turned out that, apparently, a week without a change in Gabriel’s condition was reason for him to want to be untraceable. Castiel had returned to the hotel room after an hour to see if Sam had returned and all of Dean’s big-brother instincts had sparked and sent them off on a search. Dean became increasingly frantic as the search yielded no results while Cas quieted to silence, no longer offering words of comfort.

 

By the next morning, it was clear that Sam had lost them or someone else had nabbed him. Dean wasn’t sure which he would rather be true. When they returned to the hotel because of Castiel’s insistence that Dean needed rest, Dean downed a burning mouthful of whiskey, replaced the cap on the bottle, and crawled into the bed with it. Cas stood between the two beds—the one that Gabriel occupied and the one Sam had been using that was now Dean’s—and watched. Perhaps a night in the bed instead of on the couch would better prepare Dean for a more fruitful search.

 

Somehow, Cas had the feeling that Sam had run away and they wouldn’t be finding him in the same condition he left in.

 

…

 

It wasn’t that Sam was desperate that made him leave—it was more that he was angry. He was angry at Gabriel, first of all, for the whole Grace-taint fiasco in the first place. If Gabriel hadn’t made the vow to kill Lilith, then theoretically no one would be lying comatose in a hotel room now. Then, of course, he was angry at himself for not stopping it all sooner. Maybe if he’d made more effort to help Gabriel, the taint could’ve been prevented. If Cas thought he could help in purifying it, then surely he could’ve helped to prevent it.

 

He was angry at Lucifer most of all. Lilith was Lucifer’s fault and Lilith was the one to kill Ase. Now, if something didn’t change soon, it looked like Lucifer had killed Gabriel, burning her with the raw power of his Grace. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And now Sam was trying to contact Lucifer again to see if he could negotiate Gabriel’s recovery. Lucifer had the power to heal Gabriel’s vessel and then guard her while her Grace healed itself—Lucifer claimed it and Sam knew it to be true.

 

All it would cost is his body and soul.

 

Sam let the curtain of his hotel room close, turning to lay down. All he had to do was sleep and then he could get his answers.

 

Instead, he felt himself shake with sobs and realized he was mourning. It felt too big to be mourning for so little as what was going on. No, this was the pain of a lonely childhood, his father’s rejection, of losing Jessica, of losing Dad, of Dean going to Hell to save him, of losing Ase, of watching Gabriel slowly fall and weaken and get burned so badly. This was the pain of knowing he was about to sell more than his life.

 

He was selling everybody’s.

 

Sam knew it was wrong. Even though he knew there was no way they were going to be able to stop the prize-fight between Michael and Lucifer, at least the other way they could maybe save some people or believe they could. Their only chance of that was with Gabriel. Sam’s last hope was that saving Gabriel would save the world. Then at least they could all die like heroes. It didn’t matter that, if saving Gabriel came at the price of eradicating the existence of humanity—and probably angels and demons as well—should Gabriel choose not to help the others, then the price was too high. Sam had lost too much and too many. If he was going to lose anyone else, it would be on his own terms. At least this way, he could make sure they had a fighting chance and that Dean never returned to Hell if they didn’t win. If he couldn’t guarantee Dean’s life, at least he could get him a painless death and afterlife.

 

Sam only hoped God would have the same mercy with him, even though he knew he was going to deserve the worst of Hell for the deal he was going to make.

 

Sam was pretty sure the fact that everyone would consider his actions a betrayal as what hurt the worst. They still had hope. Only God knew how, but they did. Sam didn’t. He knew it was all going to burn.

 

Sam closed his eyes tightly, holding his breath as long as possible to try to reduce his sobs. It was time.

 

It only took a few minutes for his breath to deepen, the exhaustion draining him.

 

…

 

Sam was baking a pie—wearing an old apron he was pretty sure he’d seen at Bobby’s. Between that and the calmness pervading the space around him, Sam was pretty sure he was dreaming. The golden light suffusing the room was beautiful, happy and peaceful in a way Sam wasn’t used to, even in dreams. He worked in silence, focused on making the pie.

 

“Your dream’s pretty peaceful today. With all that’s going on, you’d expect a nightmare or something, wouldn’t you think?” a voice asked behind him as he bent to put the pie in the oven. For a moment, Sam was frozen in fear, unable to turn around. It couldn’t be—there was no way.

 

When Sam turned around, he stopped breathing and dropped the pie with a loud clatter. Whiskey-colored eyes twinkled at him from the face Gabriel had been wearing the first time Sam met him.

 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk—just look at the mess you made, Sasquatch,” Gabriel mock-chastised. With a snap, the splattered bits of pie disappeared. “What would you do if I wasn’t here to clean up your messes?”

 

“Gabriel, are you—is this…real?” Sam asked haltingly, breathlessly. Gabriel smirked.

 

“Did I jump to your psyche for a power boost while healing? You bet I did. I felt Luci hanging around in your brain however long ago and, if any angel’s getting the jump on that sweet ass of yours, you better bet it’s gonna be me,” Gabriel answered with a leer. It felt so much like old bantering Sam’s eyes clouded. He turned back around and leaned on the counter, his head bowed.

 

“Hey,” Gabriel said more softly, gently touching Sam’s shoulder. “I won’t let Lucifer bother you anymore. I have enough strength for that. You don’t need to worry.”

 

“It isn’t about that,” Sam mumbled. Part of him was starting to wonder if he could have a conversation with an archangel anymore without mumbling. He’d been doing a lot of it lately. He comforted himself with the thought that it probably had more to do with the fact that there was a lot going on and he was dreaming rather than some innate weakness.

 

“Then what’s it about, Sam? I can hide in your noggin and block my brother out, but I can’t hear your thoughts so much, so your secrets are safe from me. For now, anyway,” Gabriel teased. Sam could hear the smile in his voice and he found himself abruptly turning around and pulling the smaller man into his arms as tightly as he could. From somewhere around Sam’s shoulder, Gabriel’s muffled voice added, “That, for instance, was not expected.”

 

“Just—Just get better, okay? We need you or the whole world’s gonna burn. We can’t—we can’t let that happen. So get better—just get better, okay?” Sam babbled, hardly realizing he was repeating himself. _Don’t die too_ , he thought, over and over. That was all he could think, all he could feel. Gabriel pulled back and placed on hand gently on Sam’s face.

 

“That’s why I’m here, Sambo. My body’ll heal while I’m in here feeding off some of your brain’s extra energy. Before you know it, I’ll be back to buggin’ ya full time,” Gabriel promised with another smirk.

 

“Why haven’t you been talking to me if you’ve been here the whole time?” Sam asked. Gabriel’s face darkened.

 

“Castiel refined his wards on you to keep out impure Grace. I don’t think he realized quite the state mine was in when he did it,” he explained. Suddenly, Sam realized that he hadn’t even remembered that Gabriel was tainted—dark in places an angel should never be anything but light. He’d been so overwhelmed to see him coherent and mobile that he hadn’t remembered the damage.

 

“So, what, you’ve just been stuck in the back of my mind, unable to do anything? I would’ve had Cas remove the wards if I’d known,” Sam promised. Gabriel smiled, patting Sam’s cheek once before he stepped back out of the human’s arms and turning to look out the back door.

 

“I know you would’ve, Samoose, but I couldn’t exactly tell you. Besides, do you _really_ wanna be stuck dealin’ with me every time you fall asleep?” he pointed out. Sam restrained himself from vehemently protesting that he wouldn’t be upset at all about that because it would’ve sounded needy and desperate and probably sent Gabriel running.

 

“Would you heal faster if you did?” he asked instead. Gabriel shrugged.

 

“Probably, but you really don’t have to do that. I’ll heal eventually anyway and I don’t wanna irritate one of the people who’s theoretically keeping my body safe. Plus it’s better that I’m in the background to make it easier to keep Luci out. Speaking of, why are you outside of Cassie’s ward range? Did you fall asleep in the car or something?” Gabriel asked, turning around to look at Sam. Sam felt irrationally angry with his dream self when he realized he was blushing. He averted his eyes and hoped Gabriel didn’t realize what was going on.

 

“Oh, you stupid self-sacrificing _dunce_ of a human! You were going to talk to him, weren’t you? He’s called the Father of Lies for a reason, Sam. No matter what advantage you thought you had, he would’ve convinced you or destroyed you! What made you think it was a good idea?” Gabriel demanded, looking angry enough that Sam was beginning to understand why archangels were once referred to as terrific and awesome. Sam shook his head, not wanting to answer. “Samuel Winchester, you will answer me immediately.”

 

“I was trying to help you,” Sam mumbled.

 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

 

“I was trying to help you recover.”

 

“You were _what_?! Dad-damnit, Sam! I’ll be fine and, even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be worth Lucifer getting his fucking vessel to keep me alive! I deserved to die for the corruption inside me, Sam. I’m dangerous—more so than I ever was under Heaven’s control. If Lucifer had agreed and I’d recovered only to see him looking out from your eyes—to know that it was my fault you were gone….”

 

“Gabriel, I…”

 

“I already lost Ase, Sam. I _won’t_ lose you.”

 

Sam felt like all of the air had been punched out of him.

 

“Does that mean…?”

 

“What do you think it means, dumbass?”

 

“That’s why Cas wanted me to help purify your Grace, isn’t it? It didn’t have anything to do with my soul. It had to do with—.”

 

“Oh, he was gonna try that, was he? I swear to Dad, that kid will be on _everyone_ trying to make matches now that he’s getting some happiness from his ‘profound bond’ with your brother. I bet he was hoping we would accidentally form a bond of our own in the process. Betcha he was gonna try it when I wasn’t able to make a decision, too. Sneaky little shit.”

 

“That…I wouldn’t have…”

 

“Oh, he wouldn’t have explained before he got the ball rolling. He would’ve waited until I was recovered enough to notice and then he would’ve fled when I freaked the fuck out about it. Oh-ho-ho, the embarrassment I’m going to put that upstart fledgling through when I get a hold of him. Forcing a bond like that breaks so many rules that shouldn’t be broken.”

 

Sam gathered that Gabriel didn’t want any sort of bond with him, despite the friendship and growing affection Sam had been forming for him. He wished it didn’t strike the part deep inside him that always said he’d never be worthy of anything close to love because of all the bad decisions he’d made over the years. His face felt warm and the sight of the old kitchen floor was blurry. He should’ve known Gabriel wouldn’t love him or keep him around as anything more than an asset to protect. He should’ve known Gabriel was going to run and recover on his own somewhere the second he could.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sasquatch? You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll get better and my Grace should be able to purify itself over time, if I work the right spells to kickstart it. And I promise not to kill or permanently damage Cas. I’ll just rough him up and scare him a little.”

 

Sam barked out an unhappy laugh and kept his eyes down, ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks. God, Dean was right—he was such a girl, crying ‘cause his crush didn’t like him back. The only person who wanted him in any way was Lucifer and God knew that wasn’t what he was looking for.

 

“Sammich? Hey, what’s wrong?” Gabriel repeated, stepping closer with one hand raised. Sam nearly stumbled he stepped back so quickly. If Gabriel got too close now, Sam didn’t know what he’d do. He was typically the logical one out of he and his brother, sure, but when he fell for someone, it was with his whole self. Sam had tried keeping himself on the precipice as long as possible, but if Gabriel touched him now, he was sure he would fall and that there was nothing stupider than falling for an almighty and righteous weapon of Heaven when he was nothing more than a screw-up with demon blood. “Sam?”

 

“Don’t, Gabriel. Just—I, uh, I’m fine. Tired, y’know? Not resting when I’m sleeping. Obviously. Makes the its-your-fucking-fault-the-Apocalypse-is-even-happening depression worse, y’know? I’m fine. Really,” Sam babbled, cursing himself for mentioning the depression even as he wished it was only as recent as the Apocalypse. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to regain his composure. He flinched as he felt hands cradling his face gently.

 

“Sam,” Gabriel said. Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge Gabriel’s hands. He was so close—swaying on such a fine point—it would take nothing to fall into the abyss and, oh, how sweet would be the decent before he was crushed at the bottom! Softer, Gabriel whispered, “Sam, open your eyes.”

 

Sam squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, his fingers digging into his sides painfully as he tried to ground himself in the midst of his panic. He heard Gabriel sigh and then the hands on his face disappeared before reappearing over his own, prying them away from his sides and intertwining their fingers together.

 

“The Apocalypse isn’t your fault, Sam. None of this is. You’ve just got some really crappy luck, kiddo.”

 

“Obviously—why else would the universe make me love a fucking archangel?” Sam blurted before freezing completely, certain that now he’d never see the archangel again. Gabriel would flee and he wouldn’t even have their friendship to console himself with. Sam suddenly jerked back, tugging his hands away from Gabriel’s as he turned to flee. _Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god I messed up its over what have I done he’ll mock me and I can’t deal with it oh god no please no_ —

 

“Sam, stop. Calm down,” Gabriel instructed, appearing in front of Sam’s path. Sam stepped back but didn’t flee, knowing running from the archangel would be useless. He may as well wait it out and suffer in silence. Gabriel couldn’t torture him forever. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sam.”

 

Sam realized he’d been thinking out loud and closed his eyes again, waiting for the mocking and rejection. Instead, gentle hands cradled his face again, pulling his head down until his forehead rested against Gabriel’s. Gabriel’s thumbs caressed his cheeks soothingly, removing his earlier tears.

 

“I’m dangerous, Sam. Even with my Grace damaged, I could destroy you. You shouldn’t trust me. I’m cruel too—wicked and harsh and capable of tearing people to shreds without remorse. Now, with the darkness inside me too, there’s not much to stop me from doing evil. You shouldn’t love me, Sam. I’m not worthy of anything but scorn from a soul as bright as yours. Dad knows you shouldn’t, but, Sam, I’m glad you do,” he whispered.

 

So soft Sam wasn’t certain he hadn’t imagined it, Gabriel pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead before resting their foreheads together again. “I love you too, kiddo. Now, close your eyes. I’ll make sure you don’t dream any more tonight so you can rest, okay? When you wake up, go back to Dean and Cas. It’s safer if you’re with them.”

 

Before Sam could so much as react, his mind quieted into nothingness.


	10. If You Want Blood (You've Got It)

 

Chapter 10: If You Want Blood (You Got It)

 

_Blood on the rocks_

_Blood on the streets_

_Blood in the sky_

_Blood on the sheets_

_If you want blood_

_You got it_

_I want you to bleed for me_

 

…

 

 

“What the _fuck_ —whatever, sure—Cas, stop trying to friggin’ take the phone—Sam, Bobby can be there in an hour. Stay _put_ , d’ya hear? Put up the wards Cas showed us and _don’t leave_ your room,” Dean instructed, his voice tinny over Sam’s phone.

 

“Okay,” Sam replied, subdued. He could hear Dean sigh over the line.

 

“Cas and I are heading toward Bobby’s now. I’ll see you soon, dude, okay? Just—just don’t anything I wouldn’t do, all right?”

 

Sam snickered despite himself..

 

“Yeah, man. See you at Bobby’s.”

 

The call ended and Sam leaned back against the headboard of his bed, flipping on the television. He kept the volume low to prevent worsening his already significant headache. He felt drained. Wasn’t love supposed to be uplifting?

 

Sam closed his eyes, letting the quiet droning of the television soothe him.

 

A knock on the door startled him and he realized he must’ve dozed off. He sat up and wiped his face with his hands, shaking his head in an attempt to wake up. The knock on the door repeated itself and Sam walked tiredly toward it.

 

“I’m coming, give me a second, Bobby. I must’ve fallen asl—.”

 

“No words of love, Sam? Didn’t you miss me?” Lucifer asked with a smile. Sam, struggling to breathe, didn’t respond, merely standing motionless and pale in the doorway. “That’s fine, Sam. We can talk later. For now, we’re going to go on a little trip.”

 

Sam managed a hardly-articulate “no” as Lucifer yanked him out of the hotel room and touched his forehead.

 

…

 

“The hotel room’s empty? You’re sure, Bobby?” Dean asked for the fifth time.

 

“Nah, I’m sure he’s hiding in the bathtub. Of course I’m sure, you idjit! His bag’s still here and everything. Door was open when I got here. I hate to say it, kid, but I don’t think he left this room willingly. Now get your ass here as quick as you can. We gotta figure out who got him,” Bobby instructed before hanging up. Dean’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

 

“ _God-fucking_ -damnit! It’s Lucifer, I know it is!” Dean shouted.

 

“We will find him, Dean,” Cas murmured quietly. Dean shot him a biting look and stepped on the gas. “I will return shortly. We cannot leave Gabriel unattended.”

 

“Whatever, man,” Dean grumbled to the now-empty car. His heart was racing, pounding violently against his ribs. Sam was in so much danger and he didn’t know if he could save him. All he knew was that he had to. Somehow. _Please, God, I have to save him somehow. He’s my brother and I’ve got to protect him_.

 

“I could transport us to the hotel,” Cas offered quietly as he reappeared in the vehicle, Gabriel’s charred form shielded in his arms again. Dean swallowed. He wanted to get there to help Bobby find clues, but he was scared too. He could pretend it wasn’t real until he actually got there.

 

“Gimme a minute first,” Dean ground out. Castiel nodded minutely and turned to look out the passenger window. A few minutes later, Dean gave the go-ahead and took his foot off the gas. He closed his eyes and opened them again to find the car parked beside Bobby’s in a cheap motel parking lot. “Let’s see what Bobby’s figured out so far.”

 

They climbed out of the car and headed toward the open door. Bobby spotted them and stepped out to show them inside, closing the door behind them as Cas placed Gabriel on the empty bed.

 

“I can’t find anything that might help find him, boy. Maybe your angel’ll have better luck,” Bobby said gruffly. Dean considered protesting the term of possession, but decided not to in favor of watching Cas investigate.

 

“I can feel vestiges of Lucifer’s presence near the doorway. I do not believe he entered the room,” Cas informed them.

 

“He must’ve tricked Sam outside, then,” Bobby reasoned. Cas nodded.

 

“Most likely. He may have created an illusion to trick him. There is evidence of use of Grace and more than would be needed to simply sedate Sam,” Cas stated. “It may be possible to track the movement of his Grace, but I do not believe I am strong enough to do so. It is too subtle for my powers.”

 

“So what do we do, Cas?” Dean asked, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

 

“We can monitor for signs of Lucifer’s presence,” Cas offered, his forehead scrunched in thought. Bobby and Dean watched in silence, waiting for another option. There had to be a more useful plan. “Perhaps, given Gabriel’s pagan involvement, we could find a spell to increase her recovery rate. She could track Lucifer.”

 

“How would we find a spell that would work?” Bobby asked, already thinking through his catalogue of books.

 

“I may know someone with the necessary information. Remain here and I will return soon.”

 

“It’d be better if I started heading to my house to look through the books.”

 

“Then I will transport you all to your home before I go to determine if there is a spell that would work.”

 

…

 

“Wakey-wakey,” Lucifer singsonged, his voice making Sam startle awake. Sam felt like whimpering and closing his eyes until the nightmare he was in ended, but he didn’t. He locked a glare on Lucifer’s face and waited for the Devil to say his piece while he considered how funny it was that being captured by the devil had so suddenly changed his view on selling the world. “Aw, what’s with the face, Sammy? You’re the one who left the warding so I could get to you. Aren’t you glad I came and picked you up?”

 

“It’s pretty hard to be glad that Satan kidnapped you, you know,” Sam replied drily. A dangerous facsimile of a smile flickered onto Lucifer’s face.

 

“Now, now, Sam, there’s no need to call names. I’m hardly the adversary if you were coming to me for help. That is what you were doing, isn’t it? Coming to sacrifice yourself so I would save my little brother?” he asked, his tone taunting.

 

“It’s your fault Gabriel was hurt in the first place,” Sam retorted.

 

“No, it really wasn’t. He was weakened because of his stunt trying to recover that little trickster you got killed. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours, Sam. But that’s okay. You can fix it, if you can convince me to help.”

 

“You won’t help. It’ll be a trick.”

 

“Hmm, I think you’re forgetting which archangel you’re talking to, Sammy. I’m not a trickster—or a liar, for what it’s worth. If I tell you I’ll heal my brother, I will.”

 

“And, let me guess, all it’ll take is a three letter word and you’ll do it?”

 

“Got it in one. Agree to be my vessel and Gabriel will be up and walking the very same minute.”

 

“All the way healed? Still with his powers? Walking isn’t necessarily fully powered.”

 

“I give you my word that he will be completely recovered in that moment with all due power and skills he had before his injury.”

 

“You’ll kill my brother, though. I can’t let that happen.”

 

“Well, that’s just a choice you’ll have to make, isn’t it? My brother for yours. I mean, it’s not that hard a choice. You and yours are mortal—you’re going to die sometime or other. Mine shouldn’t die and you can keep it from happening. Wouldn’t it be worth it to know that your pitiful mortal existence provided the means for an immortal to survive?”

 

“Not at the price of my brother—or the world.”

 

“We’ll see what you think about that after you and I have a bit more quality time together. Your brother may think he learned torture from the best, but no one knows the art better than I do. A little blood and pain and you won’t be trying to save anyone but yourself.”

 

“That’s a lot of talk without any actions backing it up,” Sam remarked, realizing he was either stupid or suicidal. Lucifer’s smile sparked again and then a pain like ice spiking through all of Sam’s organs made him unaware of anything but misery.

 

“All I need is one little word, Sam,” Lucifer whispered in his ear when the pain dimmed. Sobbing, Sam shook his head. He couldn’t give in, no matter what Lucifer did to him. The fate of the world depended on it.

 

…

 

 “Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy before you appear an inch away from him!” Dean startled.

 

“My apologies, Dean. I have discovered a ritual that may recover Gabriel and therefore aid us in finding Sam,” Cas remarked.

 

“What do we need? Should I wake Bobby up?”

 

“Quickly—we must prepare before sunset and there is much to do.”

 

“All right, give me a second,” Dean replied before dashing upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, the hunters had downed a cup of coffee each and Castiel had begun telling them the ingredients they would need.

 

“Where the hell are we supposed to find Asgardian mead?” Bobby asked incredulously.

 

“Gabriel has shown me how to…procure…the beverage before,” Castiel answered. “As for the other ingredients, I believe you will be capable of gathering them without me. It may take me several hours to acquire the mead.”

 

“Well, you better go get started, Cas. We’ll start rustling up the rest of the ingredients,” Bobby answered.

 

“Be safe out there,” Dean grunted.

 

“Do the same,” Castiel instructed sincerely before he disappeared. Bobby and Dean sat down with their list of spell ingredients—half of which Bobby had lying around already. Although the spell called for angelica root, Castiel had marked it off and indicated that the persimmon in Bobby’s stores would be an adequate substitute. Sunflower petals would take nothing more than a trip to the florist. Finding black agate would be easy enough as well. The ingredients that would be harder to get we a hair from a Valkyrie, tears of a motherless child, and the blood of a virgin.

 

They decided to tackle the Valkyrie hair first. True to form, Bobby’s first instinct was to start calling other hunters even as he pulled down books that might have more information. When it looked like it may take longer than hoped, he sent Dean off to get the tears and blood. Dean returns an hour from sunset and knows from the harassed look on Bobby’s face that he’s been more successful than his father figure.

 

“Ain’t nobody ever seen a freakin’ Valkyrie, kid, least no one that I know or anyone that I know knows,” Bobby grumbled as he slammed the phone down again, taking his cap off and scratching his head.

 

“So what are we gonna do?” Dean asked, feeling the beginnings of panic growing in his soul. If they couldn’t heal Gabriel, after all, the chances that they could find Sam while Lucifer had him were reduced to almost nothing.

 

“Calm down, boy. I’ll think of something,” Bobby said gruffly. Despite the lack of help in the statement, it comforted Dean a little and enabled him to think. His thoughts were interrupted by Bobby suddenly cursing.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“There’s one more contact I ain’t tried—a demon named Crowley,” Bobby answered.

 

“Son of a bitch, all we’ve got’s a demon?” Dean cursed in agreement with Bobby’s earlier assessment while Bobby went to the phone and started entering a long number. “Wait, you got a demon’s number?”

 

“I ran into the bastard at an auction once and he’s less skanky than some of the other demons I’ve met, so I summon him first if I need info from Hell. Last time, Crowley and I agreed calling each other’d be better than summoning him every time,” Bobby replied absently as he lifted the phone to his ear. Dean listened with bated breath as Bobby negotiated, the older hunter’s face rage with anger as he argued with the demon on the other end of the line.

 

“Deal,” a man in a dark suit agreed as he suddenly appeared in the room. “One Valkyrie hair in return for that bottle of apple pie moonshine you’ve been hiding all year.”

 

“Apple pi—you brought a Valkyrie hair?” Dean asked, setting aside the knowledge that Bobby had been hiding a potentially perfect alcohol from him.

 

“Who _is_ this idiot, Robert? Yes, squirrel, I brought the Valkyrie hair—though what you need it for is still something of a mystery. Dangerous things, Valkyries, and their hair is only used in dangerous spells,” Crowley remarked. Bobby ignored him and bent down to search the cabinet behind him for the moonshine, seemingly oblivious to Crowley’s gaze following him.

 

“What we need it for is none of your business, demon,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Crowley redirected his attention to Dean.

 

“I didn’t ask, squirrel. I just said it’s bloody likely to be bad,” he answered with some irritation. Dean rolled his eyes like he hadn’t started yelling at the demon over nothing about the time Bobby stood up with a mostly filled mason jar in his hand.

 

“Here’s your moonshine, Crowley,” Bobby said, holding out the jar.

 

“Uh-uh-uh, Bobby. Have to seal the contract first,” Crowley returned.

 

“Do we really need a contract for a simple exchange of goods?”

 

“With you lot, yes. Now pucker up.”

 

Dean made gagging noises in the background as Crowley planted a perfectly chaste kiss on Bobby’s lips.

 

“Here you are, then. One Valkyrie hair for the contents of that jar,” Crowley said amiably with a smirk, trading the items absently. He opened the jar and took a sip, sighing in happiness. “It’s not Glencraig, but it’ll do.”

 

“Yeah, well, you oughtta get out of here. Dangerous spells and all that,” Bobby remarked gruffly. Crowley winked at him with a smirk again.

 

“You’re right, of course. Ciao, darling,” he answered before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Almost instantly, the place he had been standing was filled with Castiel.

 

“Is there something wrong with your eye, Bobby?” he asked.

 

“No,” Bobby answered curtly, his face flushed bright red. “We got the ingredients.”

 

“We should go outside. I will bring Gabriel,” Castiel answered. He vanished before reappearing with his sister’s charred remains in his arms. “Bobby, are you in any way attached to the ash tree Gabriel used to store Grace before?”

 

“Not particularly, why?” Bobby asked warily.

 

“It may be damaged by the spell. Although I would prefer to use something more associated with Loki, I will use the tree as a grounding point for Gabriel,” Castiel explained. They walked the remainder in silence, each contemplating their part in the spell. Carefully, Castiel wrapped Gabriel in a winding sheet and laid her under the shade of the tree with her feet pointing northeast. The wind made the ash leaves rustle as it tugged at them all.

 

“When I begin the spell, say your parts, but remain outside the circle no matter what happens. You may not enter until the spell is completed,” Castiel warned as he began marking sigils on the ground, watching them as they made the circle and placed the candles where he indicated. They waited until Castiel was ready to light the candles and say their beginning spells, Dean’s in Enochian and Bobby’s in Old Norse. Castiel scattered the herbs over Gabriel’s almost-corpse and placed the agate on her forehead. As he spoke the spell, he dropped the childless mother’s tears and the virgin blood carefully onto the agate.

 

He poured the unused portion of each ingredient into a central fire under the tree, which turned bright green with the addition. Lightning shattered the sky as the wind picked up and the green fire glowed brighter and bigger between Gabriel and the tree. Castiel’s voice grew louder, more commanding as he wove the spell demanding Gabriel’s healing. Finally, he heated the mead over the fire and placed the Valkyrie hair within it just before removing it from the flame. Once removed, he poured it at Gabriel’s feet. The fire and candles went out when the last drop touched the ground, surrounding them all in the darkness and silence of night.

 

The hunters outside the circle stayed silent as they waited for Castiel to give the all clear.

 

“It is done,” Castiel said finally, waving his hand to light a fire outside the circle so they could see. He looked haggard and Dean staggered forward to help him.

 

“Did it work?” he asked urgently as Bobby went past him to the sheet-wrapped body on the ground.

 

“Gabriel’s vessel and Grace are restored enough to ensure safety. A few days of rest will still be needed,” Castiel assured him.

 

“Er, was the spell supposed to make her a man again?” Bobby asked. Castiel and Dean looked over, seeing that it was indeed the Trickster they’d met first lying there, not Ase’s body. Castiel frowned in thought before his eyes lit up in realization.

 

“Using persimmon instead of angelica—although they are both used for healing, persimmon is used in spells to change sex. I knew it would work for the healing spell, but it seems to have had the unexpected consequence of changing Gabriel’s body back to a male one. I…pray he does not notice soon,” he remarked.

 

“It doesn’t matter. You need rest. Let’s get you ‘n’ him inside,” Dean said decidedly. The hunters helped the angels inside to safety and pretended not to be concerned that Gabriel hadn’t woken up and that Castiel had fallen asleep the second they got him onto the couch. As long as they woke up soon, everything would be okay. Or at least so they hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know where the hell Crobby came from but it’s apparently staying. For all that the plot and notes were planned out before this story was started, it’s a trainwreck as far as ships go. There weren’t supposed to be anything but squint-to-see-it Sam/Gabe. Idk. Enjoy?


	11. Peace Frog

 

Chapter 11: Peace Frog

 

_There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles_

_Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee_

_Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago_

_Blood on the rise, it's following me_

…

 

Castiel’s estimate of a few days was a lot of worrisome downtime for the hunters. While they waited, the Devil was busy. One person had gone missing from a city called Carthage each day for five days. Two days after the healing of Gabriel, he would be ready to raise Death and bind the most powerful of the Horsemen to him. He went out and saw to certain things personally, of course, but mostly he spent the time using his unique form of persuasion on Sam as he informed the demon Meg what to do. She was a good demon, loyal, clever, and capable like her father.

 

She was also, however, something of a loudmouth when she was giving out instructions, which allowed the demon Crowley to pick up on the news. Knowing Lucifer’s growing power would not end well for the King of the Crossroads, he sent rumors as fast as he could through the grapevine about his possession of the Colt. It was hardly twenty hours after he’d delivered the Valkyrie hair to Bobby Singer that a blonde woman and the squirrely Ken doll he’d met at Bobby’s broke into his house.

 

He’d noticed the strange marks on the boy’s bright soul at Bobby’s, of course, but now he understood. Squirrel was one of the Winchesters—one of the vessels, the one that belonged to Michael. And, of course, Lucifer’s vessel was nowhere to be seen because Lucifer had him trussed up nice and bloody in Carthage while he prepared to raise Death. Crowley wondered how the Hell he got himself into these situations, but he explained that he wanted Lucifer dead and gave them both the Colt and the information they would need to find the Devil nonetheless.

 

He vanished to a safe house and let the souls of the damned tend to him. He really did need to buy the soul of another masseuse, but the current one would do for now. He wondered if he should feel worried that his thoughts wandered to a gruff old hunter he’d slowly been trying to seduce for an insider’s knowledge of Team Anti-Apocalypse, but decided it was probably the moonshine. The man had taste, when he could be pried away from his rotgut. And, hopefully, he wouldn’t be one of the Carthage casualties.

 

…

 

Sam wasn’t sure how long Lucifer had held him. It was long enough that he didn’t beg for mercy anymore and long enough that he’d learned the vessel Lucifer was using was falling apart, but he wasn’t sure what that translated to in real time. Mostly, he hoped he’d been held for a long time because he didn’t want Dean to think he was weak—although he acknowledged he was probably just fooling himself with that. Dean’d been around after all the crap with Gabriel started, so he probably already thought Sam was nothing but a weak little baby, but Sam still hoped. He wanted Dean to be proud of him.

 

Surely, saying no to the Devil even under torture was something to be proud of.

 

It was the quiet times that seemed to be the most torture, though. Sometimes Lucifer left him alone with his thoughts and Sam’s thoughts were rather too torturous for that to be a break. He wondered if Gabriel was dead already more often than he should. If Gabriel was dead, there wasn’t much hope left anyway. He may as well say yes, in that case, because there was no way they could kill Lucifer or trap him again without an archangel on their side. Of that, Sam was sure. He was just as sure, though, that they would all damn well die trying. They were big damn heroes—or at least tried to be.

 

“Why the long face, Sam? Did you miss me?” Lucifer asked as he strolled back into the room. Sam tried to hide his flinch before the Devil could see it, but he was pretty sure he’d failed.

 

“Go ‘way,” Sam managed, trying to form the words without upsetting his broken jaw. Lucifer’s eyes twinkled with delight.

 

“But don’t you want to hear the news, Sammy? Looks like that foolish little Castiel did something smart—he cast a spell to speed Gabriel’s recovery. Isn’t that good news?”

 

“For me.”

 

“Oh-ho-ho, no, Sam, it’s good news for the both of us. As soon as I capture my recovering brother, I can set about turning him to my side. He’d look good in my shadow, don’t you think? Of course, my shadow will be more impressive once I’ve got you, but dear old Nick’ll work until Gabriel and I have a chance to convince you. You do realize that I’ll convince him and we’ll convince you, right? It’s inevitable. He always followed me everywhere and it’s the only way you’ll be close to him. All you’ve got to do is say yes and I can guarantee you’ll get to stay close to him for eternity.”

 

“N’ver.”

 

“You’re delusional, Sam. It really is inevitable. The sooner you realize that, the easier the adjustment will be. You’re really only hurting yourself by delaying this.”

 

“Eat a b’g of dicks.”

 

“There’s no need to be crude, Sam. We’re finer than that, you and I.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Oh, my dear. It seems it’s time for some more education, doesn’t it? This is for your own good, Sam. I only have your best interests at heart.”

 

…

 

“Dean,” Cas exclaimed as he gasped awake, sitting up with enough force to shake his bed. Dean left the table to sit on the edge beside him.

 

“Hey, you okay, Cas?” he asked, reaching out before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself.

 

“How is—how is Gabriel?” Castiel asked, seemingly backtracking to remember what was going on.

 

“He’s, uh, sleeping. He hasn’t moved since the spell,” Dean admitted.

 

“How long…?”

 

“You did the spell the night before last. Bobby just left for breakfast.”

 

“There’s something wrong. The air feels wrong. Tension that shouldn’t be in nature.”

 

“Uh, what? You okay, buddy?”

 

“There is something wrong, Dean! Something terrible…”

 

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to lay back down, Cas. Whatever it is, Bobby ‘n’ I’ll figure it out. You need more rest.”

 

“No. I need to examine Gabriel. He would be able to determine what is wrong.”

 

“Can you even stand up, Cas? That seemed like some pretty powerful magic,” Dean asked, holding Cas’s shoulders to help him up.

 

“A more powerful magic is in the air. I cannot rest now,” Castiel replied, standing resolutely. Dean caught him as he swayed dangerously, holding the angel up in his arms.

 

“Are you okay, Cas? Maybe you ought to sit back down,” Dean recommended cautiously. Cas shook his head from where it leaned against Dean’s.

 

“I can’t. It’s dangerous. I need to find out what is happening,” he argued.

 

“Hey, man, you can’t do anybody any good if you pass out on us. Sit down and catch your breath and then you can try again,” Dean recommended, manhandling the angel back onto the bed. Cas refused to let go of the hunter even as he fell back onto his side, resulting in the two of them lying facing each other, nearly completely entwined together.

 

“Where are we? This isn’t Bobby’s house,” Cas asked.

 

“We’re just outside of Carthage, Missouri. Bobby got a tip that Lucifer’s going to try some super-spell or shit like that, so we came up here to try to put a stop to it or at least find Sammy,” Dean explained.

 

“Assuming Lucifer has not destroyed him,” Castiel answered, cataloguing Dean’s flinch for future examination. “What spell is it that Lucifer is trying?”

 

“Accordin’ to Crowley, Lucifer’s tryin’ to raise and bind Death,” Bobby stated as he strolled into the room. Dean hurriedly disentangled himself from Castiel, but Bobby didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

 

“Crowley?” Castiel asked.

 

“Bobby’s demon buddy. He gave us the Colt and the Valkyrie hair,” Dean remarked with a sour expression.

 

“Why would a demon help us? Does he know about Gabriel?”

 

“No, he doesn’t know anything. We traded for the Valkyrie hair ‘n’ he gave us the Colt to empty into Lucifer ‘cause he thinks Lucifer’s gonna kill the demons if he wins,” Bobby explained grouchily. “It ain’t like he tried to say it was out of the goodness of his heart or somethin’. We got bigger concerns, anyway. Ellen called when I was out getting breakfast to say her ‘n’ Jo’ll be here in half an hour. Told her to meet us here so we can scrounge together some sort of plan.”

 

“If Lucifer is binding Death, there may be nothing we can do. We need Gabriel,” Castiel answered, looking at his unconscious brother.

 

“Well, we don’t have her—him. We’ve got four hunters, an angel, and a gun that can kill anything. Piece of cake, right?” Dean said with a half-hearted smile.

 

“We can hope, anyway,” Bobby grunted.

 

…

 

With Gabriel asleep, the four hunters decided to go take on Lucifer while Castiel searched for Sam and got him out of harm’s way. After all, surely four hunters could get close enough to the Devil to fill him full of lead and an angel should be able to find a friend, even if they were warded. The reapers in the city weren’t doing anything, so all they had to fight were demons. That was nothing new—they could do that.

 

It was the Hellhounds that they didn’t factor into their plan.

 

Meg was a crazy bitch with a litter of ‘hounds on her side and forgetting that cost them. Cas would’ve helped, but Lucifer had trapped him and he couldn’t get out on his own. In the end, the price of eliminating the Hellhounds was Jo and Ellen—a price, too high, that they had no choice but to pay. Dean wasted three bullets on Lucifer. Death was raised and Cas managed to escape in the confusion.

 

Their big chance tore their broken family to shreds.

 

…

 

Dean was drunk and Cas was close to it, but Bobby—Bobby was _blitzed_. Dean and Cas didn’t know that, since he’d got his own room for the night after all the chaos, but Bobby wasn’t alone. No, once he started getting nice and plastered, he started yelling at the demon that gave them the Colt. If Crowley hadn’t given them the weapon, they never would’ve tried to take Lucifer on face-to-face. They could’ve done a quiet stealth mission to ruin the spell without losing anyone.

 

When Bobby called, Crowley didn’t plan on going to see him. He’d heard what had happened, of course. News travelled like Hellfire, after all. Crowley was enjoying a bit of ‘craig and working on some paperwork when his phone went off. Bobby’s nonsensical drunken cursing assured him that blame had already been assigned, much to Crowley’s chagrin. It wasn’t like he _knew_ the Colt wasn’t going to work. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but he didn’t _know_ and he certainly had no idea the bitch Meg would be there with her pups.

 

Crowley decided that he should go to visit the hunter of his own free will before the hunter managed to summon and trap him. Even drunk off his ass, Bobby was dangerous and Crowley didn’t want to take any chances.

 

Crowley wasn’t sure when he’d signed up for being the old hunter’s shoulder to cry on, but that’s what he became—after having half the library, two empty liquor bottles, and Bobby’s left shoe thrown at him first.  The hunter was blabbing about everyone he’d ever watched die—swearing over and over that there was too much blood on his hands. Crowley merely listened as he talked, seeing the sort of condemnation only a good man could assign and knowing that the Hellfire Bobby feared was unlikely to ever touch his bright, quiet soul.

 

“Well, if you do end up in Hell, darling, I could take you for the crossroads. Hell, your soul would come straight to me if you sold it to me and then you’d never touch the racks at all. You’d make a good businessman, even if you were more ghost than demon,” Crowley said in an attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, the hunter stopped babbling to stare at the demon with wide eyes.

 

“You could keep me from bein’ a demon?” Bobby managed to ask, his voice warped by emotion and booze.

 

“I could if I purchased your soul, yes,” Crowley replied, his mind sharpening. He liked the old hunter—keeping his soul would be no hardship.

 

“What’s the cost?”

 

“Hmm, your soul for my assurance of your safety in Hell. I’ll let you keep it until you die, unless I need it for something, and I’ll make sure you know before I take it. Of course, you’re earmarked for Heaven just now and selling your soul would take that away. If you accept my deal, you _will_ go to Hell—no chance of Heaven at all. Are you willing to sacrifice that?”

 

“I don’ deserve Heaven. Not after Karen.”

 

“Well, sell me your soul and you’ll never see it, if that’s what you want.”

 

“Yeah. M’soul for safety in Hell.”

 

“Sorry, darling, but I can’t make the deal while you’re drunk. I’m a reasonably fair man, after all, and you don’t know what you’re saying or doing. I’ll come back once you’ve sobered up and we’ll talk again, shall we?”

 

“Jus’ a kissin’ contract. Ain’t gotta be sober.”

 

“Not sober, no, but you’ve got to be close to it for either with me, Robert. No, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep. I’ll be by tomorrow and we can talk again, if you’re amenable.”

 

…

 

“Going on an adventure, we’re going on an adventure. Five knives in your back, five knives in your back. Blood trickles down, blood trickles down,” Lucifer sang as he strolled into the room. “Quite a bloody game you remember from your childhood. I could help you with the live version now, if you’d like. Daggers and snakes can be found.”

 

“Fuck you,” Sam groaned.

 

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Sammy? What would Mommy and Daddy Winchester say if they could hear you?”

 

“They’d say ‘fuck you’ too.” Sam hoped that Lucifer wouldn’t take his backtalking as a good reason to further injure his healing jaw, but he also didn’t care much. Lucifer threw his head back and laughed.

 

“I admire your spunk, Sam. You’ll be a lively addition in the back of my mind once you inevitably agree to be my vessel.”

 

“Never.”

 

“You really should agree, Sam. I can’t promise to keep Dean safe, but your other friends could be protected. Did I tell you about little ol’ Ellen and Jo?” Lucifer asked. Sam stayed silent, glaring at the Devil. “They died in an explosion. Funny how one almost killed them before and this one did, isn’t it? Jo was injured so they decided to sacrifice themselves to save your brother, the other hunter, and the upstart Castiel. Pity, isn’t it? I could’ve healed Jo and kept them both alive for you, if I hadn’t been so worried someone would kidnap you while I was gone. One little yes and I could’ve kept them alive.”

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Sam snarled. Lucifer laughed again, scratching his cheek with the tip of a blade. Sam focused on Lucifer’s face, not watching the blade he’d become intimately acquainted with. It only fueled Lucifer’s fun if he did.

 

“Sam, if you insist on continuing to speak to me that way, I’ll cut out your tongue.”

 

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

 

“Well, if you insist.”

 


	12. Light My Fire

 

Chapter 12: Light My Fire

 

_The time to hesitate is through_

_No time to wallow in the mire_

_Try now we can only lose_

_And our love become a funeral pyre_

…

 

 

Sam was very close to giving in. He was a strong guy, sure, but he was only human. Having your entrails removed while you watched tended to have a pretty powerful impact on the human psyche, even if Lucifer did heal it up afterwards. That’s the thing about Lucifer—he never left any visible damage on Sam. Internal, sure—psychological, absolutely. And he usually healed up Sam’s innards after some time too, Sam just had to wait a bit. Usually.

 

His tongue was a different story. And his vocal cords. Apparently, Lucifer could tell that his formless vocalizations had been meant as curses, so he’d ripped out Sam’s vocal cords too.

 

So Sam couldn’t even scream as Lucifer began slowly peeling his skin off, starting at his feet. The Devil had assured him that it would count if he thought ‘yes’ loud enough, so he didn’t see the point of healing Sam’s voice and tongue. He did express some sense of loss from being unable to hear the sweet music of Sam’s darling screams, though.

 

Sam mostly just wanted to die. Sometimes, he prayed that he would. Lucifer heard him every once in a while and then he’d laugh and torture Sam some more, promising not even God could keep him from Lucifer’s tender loving care.

 

Sam kept praying anyway.

 

He prayed to anyone he thought might listen—God, Cas, Dean, his mother and father, even Gabriel who lay dying or dead in a roachy motel somewhere didn’t escape the desperate cried of the Boy with Demon Blood. He didn’t have much in the way of hope and God knew Sam’s faith had been weakening long before an angel called him an abomination, but he kept praying. It was all he had left.

 

…

 

It was the light that came first. Just light—bright and dim in different places, pulsing with life. Bright, dim, pulse, beat—the light flowed like water, shimmering and shining by turns.

 

Next came the sound—a musical cadence that spoke of the secrets of the universe, the sweetness of a gentle summer’s day, the darkness of an injured soul. It was melancholy and wonderful and awful and terrible and it was everything.

 

Gabriel could ignore the light, but he couldn’t ignore the sweet sadness of the song.

 

He noticed his own light after a while—his brightness hurt compared to the other. The other was softness and beauty and strength and he was terror and holiness and awesomeness. When he started hearing himself, he realized that he sounded just as terrific as well.

 

He tried to drown out his thoughts and his sliver of consciousness in the other’s light and music.

 

Time didn’t exist—meaningless human construct that it was—but eventually the other’s music resolved into words.

 

“Please, please, I can’t do this, save me, kill me, oh, God please let me die, someone kill me, please kill me,” the other pleaded. The soul. It was a mortal. And something about it had Gabriel’s consciousness gaining, despite his attempts to cling to the blissful unknowing of before.

 

“Please kill me, please, I’ll say yes, I’m too weak, kill me, save the world, save me, kill me, please God, please kill me, save me, oh, God.” The soul was familiar—it felt too much like home. Gabriel couldn’t deny its draw—he would have to surface from the darkness of sleep.

 

But first he reached out toward the soul. Father, but it was so bright, so precious, and so very weak. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out with his multidimensional consciousness and grabbed.

 

…

 

“Where the fuck did Gabriel just disappear to? What the _hell_?” Dean spat angrily, trying to hide the hammering of his heart at the sudden disappearance.

 

“I am uncertain, but I do not believe his destination is in this dimension. I cannot follow,” Cas answered truthfully, frowning in concentration.

 

“If that _dick_ is healed enough to go dimension hopping, why didn’t he bring me my fucking brother first?” Dean demanded, a good strong rage coming on to hide his worries.

 

“I do not know. He may be confused by the sudden healing or may lack sufficient memory to recognize his responsibility. He was very weak before and some damage may not be healed,” Cas pointed out.

 

“You mean he could have amnesia?” Dean squeaked—a manly squeak, dammit, not a girly high pitched note of surprise.

 

“Yes. He may not remember your brother at all.”

 

“Oh, what the fucking hell, man? Is the universe just straight out to get us or what?! Goddammit!”

 

_Crack._

 

“ _Shit_ , that fucking hurt!”

 

“I will heal your hand if you promise to refrain from punching walls in the near future.”

 

“How near?”

 

“A few hours will suffice, I believe.”

 

“…fine.”

 

“Is that better?”

 

“Yeah. You don’t have to sound so smug about it though,” Dean grumbled. Cas’s eyes flashed with amusement as he let out a low chuckle. Dean felt his soul warming despite himself. “What are you laughing at, Cas? Cas, you better not be laughing at me! Come back here you—you—you—angel!”

 

Dean knew everything would be okay. And, if it wasn’t, at least he could chase Cas down now like a couple of kids. There was no harm in a dash of hope.

 

…

 

Sam was drowning. Well, sort of drowning. He was in a tangled sea of shadows and he couldn’t breathe, so he called it drowning even though he knew that wasn’t quite right. Swimming ineffectively, maybe. It didn’t really matter what he called it, anyway. The terror gripping him as he kept sinking was definitely more important.

 

He tried to scream for help. It worked for a minute, but then he remembered that he didn’t have a voice. He didn’t remember why or how his voice had disappeared, but he knew it was gone and so he couldn’t call for help again, regardless of his ability a moment prior. It made sense with the logic of dreams alone and Sam was too deep in it to recognize it.

 

Just as illogically logically, Sam managed to start waving for help while continuing to swim. He was pretty sure he glimpsed the shore when his head broke the surface and then suddenly it was right before him. He made it onto the sand, but was disappointed when he couldn’t breathe easier. The air was just as thick as the shadow-sea.

 

Sam crawled toward what he assumed was a tree line. Maybe help would be deeper on the island.

 

The shadows were so heavy, so thick. He was drowning and suffocating and being weighed down to the ground.

 

He was going to die—if he wasn’t dead already. He wasn’t really clear on that point. All he knew was that this was surely the end. He would die in the shadow world unable to breathe, never seeing light again. He stopped crawling and looked down at the dark sand-shadow beneath him.

 

He closed his eyes. All he had to do was let the muscles of his arms relax and he would drown.

 

The drowning would only hurt for a second—then it would be sweet, dark peace and nothing else. He could live through a moment’s terror for that, surely.

 

He noticed that his ears were ringing and paused. What was that awful sound? Awful and terrible—in the traditional sense.

 

As it grew louder, so did his heartbeat.

 

Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum.

 

Oh, God, was it going to keep him from the darkness? Was it going to torment him? He would never be free—never!

 

 _Bum-bum bum-bum bum-bum_.

 

He wasn’t going to die. No, he was going to live. _Please God no!_

 

 _Bumbum bumbum bumbum_.

 

There was light starting to bleed into his vision now. He closed his eyes against it—it was too bright, the shadows were safer—it hurt and it would kill him.

 

 _Bumbumbumbumbumbum_.

 

There was still time. Surely, he could escape if he was quick enough. He launched himself toward the ground shadows.

 

Something warm and strong hit his chest as something similar wrapped around his waist, but the feeling of falling stayed.

 

“Easy, kiddo. I’ve gotcha.” The words melted into his mind. He knew he hadn’t heard them, but they were in his brain. He started to panic—he couldn’t escape from the thing if it was inside him. Oh, God, he was still going to be tortured yet.

 

“Calm down, kiddo. It’s okay. I’m here and I won’t let you get hurt any more. Hold on to me. We’ll get out of here.” Sam kept panicking. Lies, dangerous lies that meant worse torture—he couldn’t survive any more. He was going to live and he didn’t think he could bear it.

 

“Oh, Sammy, what happened to you? We’ll deal with this as soon as I get you out of here—wherever here is. How you get into these situations is beyond me.” The not-voice in his mind sounded grumpy. Sam made himself and his mind go perfectly still, the only thing left a sense of wary panic. If he didn’t struggle, maybe it would let him go. It wasn’t interesting when he didn’t struggle.

 

“Why the hell can’t we get out of here? This should work. There’s no reason it shouldn’t—I know where the entrance is. Why can’t I find it?” Now the not-voice was starting to feel a little panicky. Sam wondered if it was aware of the suffocation it was doubtless experiencing. A real, audible cough told him it was.

 

“What the hell? I don’t even need to breathe—why am I choking?” it spoke. Sam made his mind blank. If it was speaking in his ear, then it was definitely close enough to kill him. It sucked in a sharp breath. “Sam, we can’t get out of here if you keep clinging to the place. I need you to let go of it or even I won’t be able to get us out. We’ll both die here if you don’t let go.”

 

Die, oh, blessed God—Sam wanted to die. Peace under the quiet shadows, sweet release.

 

“Dad, oh, Dad, you’re going to kill us both, Sambo. I have to say, this isn’t how I expected to die saving you. I really thought Luci or Michael would be more involved.”

 

Luci or Michael. That meant something, Sam was sure of it. Luci or Michael. Michael or Luci. Luci or—Lucifer. No, no, no, embrace the shadows, anything but Lucifer—Sam’s voiceless throat strained in an attempt to scream, to beg for the shadows to take him.

 

“Oh, Hell, no. I’m not losing you because of my brother. Hold on, kiddo. We’re getting out of this place.”

 

…

 

Sam was pretty sure he was on fire. And not just on the outside. The fire was definitely on the inside too. He couldn’t think for the flames.

 

And then the fire was gone and he was pleasantly warm in the drowsy way of a cat in the sunshine. He was pretty sure he hadn’t felt like that in a very long time, but he didn’t think about it. Thinking was dangerous. Better to rest in the peace, even if it was temporary.

 

“Samshine? You gotta wake up, Samshine. Oh, Dad, please don’t let him be beyond me now. I’ll go back after him until one of us is gone, Dad, but I’m not gonna leave him, so hopefully you don’t want that. Can’t you just let him wake up now, Dad? I can’t lose him too. Please, Dad. Don’t let me lose him.”

 

Sam remembered the not-voice, but he was pretty sure that it was a real voice now. He could almost feel the vibrations in the air. The now-voice was familiar and he didn’t like the sad sound to it. The voice had given up and Sam didn’t want it to. The voice deserved better than defeat, he was sure of it. Sure of it enough, apparently, to make his body twitch. Sam was pretty sure he’d forgotten he had a body, but the twitch made the voice go unnaturally silent for a long moment.

 

“Samshine? Sammy? You gotta wake up now, Samshine. C’mon,” the voice urged. It sounded more hopeful now and Sam let himself slip a little more firmly into the quiet darkness in his mind. He didn’t need to surface if the voice was okay. “Oh, Dad—Samshine, you gotta breathe. C’mon, Samshine—breathe. In, out, in out. C’mon, focus Sammy. Oh, Dad, no, don’t let him die now when I can’t stop it.”

 

Sam’s consciousness started to rouse again at the sounds of distress. The darkness called him so sweetly and pleasantly, but he needed to fix the voice. The voice was sobbing now—he could hear it. After another moment, he could feel that his back was bowed and there were arms holding him up and eyes pouring tears onto his chest through his shirt.

 

Sam had to stop it and so he focused all his effort and opened his eyes. Thankfully, the room was rather dark and it didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. He couldn’t move to look up, though, so he tried to say that he couldn’t. His chest rumbled, but his voice stayed quiet.

 

The arms dropped him back to whatever surface he was on painfully quickly as a face swam into his vision. It was familiar. He thought of a girl, but knew it was a man’s face.

 

“Samshine? Oh, Dad—you’re awake! You’re alive!”

 

“Gabriel,” Sam said. Or, rather, tried to say. Air went through his throat without producing sound. And his mouth felt funny too. Sam frowned.

 

“Don’t freak out, Samshine. I’ll get us out of here and heal you up as soon as I get some strength back. So don’t panic about your voice. I can fix it and I will as soon as I can, okay?” Gabriel asked.

 

“Gabriel,” Sam tried again. The same lack of response. He felt his breathing speed up as one hand flew to his throat, where a smooth scar rested. He opened his mouth and touched inside to confirm that his tongue was gone too. He was mute—permanently, if an angel didn’t heal him. That made him want to scream more than anything. He focused a bewildered look on Gabriel’s face, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

 

“I swear, Sam, I will heal you as soon as I can. I _swear_ on my Grace, Sam. You remember what that means, right?” Gabriel prompted. Sam nodded tightly, frowning further. Gabriel looked haggard—worse than haggard. He looked like he’d gone through a mulcher and somehow come out with his body parts in approximately the correct places.

 

Sam wanted to ask what happened, but all he could do was give Gabriel a questioning, concerned look.

 

Gabriel laughed humorlessly. “Don’t worry about me, Samshine. We’ll get back where we belong and it’ll all be ok. I’ve just got to rest first—and you should too. You were deep in some pretty heavy shit when I got to you, kiddo. I’ll take first watch, so go back to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 

Sam really didn’t want to go back to sleep, but Gabriel looked really desperate to avoid conversation and Sam couldn’t exactly argue with no voice, so he closed his eyes obediently. When Gabriel started smoothing his hair back and tears started raining on him again, Sam pretended not to notice.

 

…

 

It was a good thing Gabriel knew time was a meaningless construct invented for lesser beings or else he was pretty sure he’d go crazy waiting for time to heal his Grace. At least he wasn’t crying now. He’d done plenty of that before and just after Sam woke up. Now he just watched the sleeping human and watched the little room he’d managed to throw up around them to keep out the Void. It was dangerous out here in the Nothing and Gabriel prayed the conjuration would protect them.

 

And that his Grace would recharge. That was sorta vital if they were going to escape the Void instead of become part of it.

 

The Silence was deafening and it frightened him. Gabriel had never experienced Silence before. Even in his construct, he couldn’t hear Sam breathing across the room. The Silence was too pervasive, even if his will could keep the Nothing at bay. The Silence whispered that the Nothing would take them, but Gabriel stubbornly clung to the irrational belief that they would escape.

 

After all, they’d already escaped the Shadow Realm. And Lucifer, if you counted Gabriel’s discorporation and subsequent remaking of Sam’s body. Which was important because, even though he’d already taken Sam’s soul, he could’ve left a nice empty vessel for his brother and that would’ve been bad. Very bad. Doubleplusungood.

 

Gabriel was pretty sure the Silence was getting to him already.

 

Not that it mattered. Even crazy, a fully powered archangel could get a person out of the Void. Theoretically. Hopefully. Okay, so no one had tried it before, but Gabriel was like 99% sure he could do it. Well, 85%. Okay, it was a 50-50 shot. Optimistically.

 

Gabriel turned away from the window to the Void and went back to Sam’s side, smoothing his hair from his face again. The giant looked harmless and innocent in sleep, gently sun-kissed skin speaking to the sunshine of his soul. He was a little pale now, sure, but Gabriel could still see the sunshine and he silently promised Sam a beautiful sunny day anywhere in the world he desired when they got back.

 

Gabriel was having difficulty determining if his half-charged Grace was doing its thing quickly or if Sam was just sleeping an unnaturally long time. Not that it really mattered, of course. Sam was safe for now and Gabriel would get him back to his family if he had to burn himself out in the process. He’d promised. He would get the man home and heal him or he would die trying. Er, but skipping the dying part if he could. He kinda wanted to try living if the Sasquatch was willing to keep him around. Which he definitely should if Gabriel got him back and healed up all nice. Even if it was sorta his fault for releasing Luficer in the first place and, dear Dad, the kid was never gonna give him the time of day, was he? He screwed up, he definitely—

 

A hand on his arm stopped Gabriel’s frantic thoughts. Gabriel didn’t want to look up, but his eyes were drawn to Sam’s face anyway.

 

Sam smiled.

 

Gabriel wrapped him so tightly in his arms that it hurt. The best part was—Sam held on too. Neither of them noticed the brightening wings lighting the room from Gabriel’s back.


	13. Sunshine of Your Love

Chapter 13: Sunshine of Your Love

 

_It's getting near dawn,_

_When lights close their tired eyes_

_I'll soon be with you my love,_

_To give you my dawn surprise_

_I'll be with you darling soon,_

_I'll be with you when the stars start falling_

 

…

 

Dean was getting pretty tired of angels passing out on him. Seriously, angels weren’t supposed to pass out. It was a law of the universe or something—at least in Dean’s universe, anyway.

 

He kinda figured he’d forgive Gabriel for this one, though, considering Sammy was wrapped up in the archangel’s arms looking more or less whole. The kid even smiled and managed a thumbs up before he passed out too.

 

It was Cas that convinced Dean to freak out quietly. He didn’t want to wake Sam if the kid needed rest, after all.

 

So Dean went outside to fiddle with Baby. That was the good thing about being at Bobby’s—he could flee outside to work on the car anytime. Cas would watch their brothers and fly him in if anything changed or if Sam woke up. Dean wasn’t going to worry about Sam—well, much anyway. Kid was home, that was the most important part. They could deal with the rest.

 

The rest? Oh, God, what had Lucifer done to the kid, anyway? He’d had him, what? Three weeks? A month? Dean wasn’t sure. Long enough to drive him up the wall enough times it had a groove worn in it, anyway. He’d been worried sick about the kid—and imagining every torture he could. It didn’t matter. He could fix it. He was Sammy’s big brother and he could fix it. He hoped.

 

He went inside after a few minutes of tinkering with Baby, the need to be near Sam stronger than the need to move away from emotional stimuli. He pulled up a chair beside Castiel’s and sat down, leaning forward toward the bed.

 

“How’re they doing?” he asked gruffly, scrubbing his jaw with his hand tiredly.

 

“Gabriel’s Grace is recovering. I believe Sam is simply in need of sleep,” Cas answered quietly. Dean nodded and sat back.

 

“Good. So they’ll both be okay.”

 

“I believe so, yes,” Cas answered. Dean smiled at him, a tired flash of happiness, and Cas smiled back. Neither of them said anything when Dean leaned against Cas's shoulder. Or when Cas's arm went around Dean’s shoulders. Or when Dean damn near passed out from exhaustion like that. And neither of them commented when Cas Graced the chairs into a loveseat and held Dean against his chest so he could sleep, either.

 

…

 

Sam woke up to the sound of arguing. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His sleep had started becoming unsettled when the warmth he’d been against had left. He was clingy when he was unconscious. If that clinginess forced him into consciousness to search for the missing element, well, that was his business.

 

More importantly, that was definitely Gabriel and Dean hissing at each other.

 

“He’ll wake up when he’s fucking ready, Dean. For Dad’s sake, Cas said he was fine too. I’m not lying, so leave him the hell alone,” Gabriel bit out.

 

“I need him to tell me what’s going on. What’s that scar on his throat and why does he keep crying, Gabriel? Do you have the answers? More importantly, do I _trust_ you enough to believe them?” Dean lashed back.

 

“Really? You don’t trust me? I rescued your brother from Lucifer _and_ an attempted multidimensional suicide _at the same fucking time_. I’m pretty sure I’m trustworthy.”

 

“Trust is earned, pipsqueak.”

 

“Earned? Haven’t I given you and your family enough to have earned that? I never came close to dying before I started hanging around you yahoos.”

 

“Yeah, but how many times was it your fault? _You_ made a vow that almost killed you and _you_ let Lucifer free. Whatever happened to Sam when Lucifer had him, that blood’s on _your_ hands, same as Ellen and Jo’s.”

 

“Are you _serious_? Cas, did your pet human get hit in the head by a cinderblock while I was gone?”

 

“Great comeback, dude.”

 

“Castiel, you better shut him up before I kill him. Getting him back would bring Raph and Mike down on our asses.”

 

Sam sat up with something that probably would’ve been a groan if he had a voice and everyone froze. Dean was sitting beside the bed in a heartbeat.

 

“How you feeling, Sammy?”

 

Sam made a so-so sign and smiled. He was glad they’d mentioned the scar. It reminded him that he couldn’t talk. It hurt more to try and find his voice empty than to not try at all.

 

Dean opened his mouth to talk, but Sam gestured for Gabriel.

 

“What is it, Sambo?” the archangel asked, his voice much softer than it had been a moment ago when directed at Dean.

 

Sam motioned Gabriel to sit beside him and the archangel obeyed, sitting as far away as the bed would allow. Sam didn’t rest until he’d tucked the archangel into his side, however, and then he smiled again.

 

“Sap,” Gabriel mumbled into Sam’s shoulder, making him shake with silent laughter.

 

“O-kay, so I guess something happened while you two were gone?” Dean said, one eyebrow raised. Sam tried to think of an answer and failed, frowning.

 

“That’s, er, my fault. Y’know how you and Cas are real close and all? Well, we’ve got a more profound bond than you two now. I pulled him from Hell and the edge of death. That kinda stuff leaves a mark, y’know?” Gabriel answered.

 

“You marked him,” Cas said in a tone of faint surprise and disapproval. Gabriel sat up away from Sam and scratched his head.

 

“It’s not as simple as that, Cas. It wasn’t exactly voluntary on either of our parts. I just got so angry that he was about to die that I was willing to do anything to save him. I may have marked him, but his soul is the one reaching for the connection now,” Gabriel answered. Sam sat back. Gabriel didn’t—he didn’t want Sam to be clinging to him, did he? He didn’t want Sam at all—and of course not, Lucifer had scarred him mentally from Hell and back as well as taking away his voice.

 

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice cut through the haze. Sam knew he was hyperventilating. His vision was going dark. The thought that Gabriel didn’t want him was worse than anything Lucifer inflicted. That he’d been more or less forcing himself on the archangel since he’d woken up made it so much worse. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, sinking into himself.

 

“Sam, open your eyes. Whatever you’re thinking, we can fix it, okay? It’s going to be okay, Sambo. Just breathe for me. Okay? Samshine?” Gabriel asked. Sam felt the archangel’s hands on his face and closed his eyes tighter, flinching away. He heard Gabriel suck in a breath sharply and then the warmth of his presence was farther.

 

“Oh. I…see. I’m sorry, Sam,” Gabriel said quietly, sounding for all the world like the fight had left him. Sam shook his head, his body trying and failing to produce a whimper that would express his panic. He tried to take Gabriel’s advice, to breathe, but he didn’t know if he could without the archangel to guide him. He was the one who’d grounded him in the Shadows and the Nothing, after all. Just like he’d grounded Gabriel in the Nothing. They protected each other. Except, apparently, Gabriel had accidently marked him and Sam kept pushing for it when Gabriel didn’t want him to. Sam should’ve known something as holy as an archangel would never take interest in a damaged demon-blood infected mud-monkey.

 

Sam could hear Lucifer’s laugh in his mind and he was certain he was going to die of a heart attack from sheer fear when soft fingertips brushed his forehead.

 

Cas removed his hand and looked at Dean. As if tracking down Lucifer and helping Sam recover from his torture wasn’t enough, now they had another archangel to find. Dean didn’t know, but Cas knew they had no choice. In his weakened mental state, it would kill Sam if he thought his partial bond-mate didn’t want him. They had to mediate it to save his life.

 

“What the hell did I miss?” Bobby asked as he surveyed the room from the doorway.

 

…

 

“We’ve got to come up with something to stop Lucifer,” Dean grouched.  Bobby glanced at where Sam sat reading in the kitchen before answering.

 

“Don’t you think we ought to focus on your brother first?” the older hunter asked quietly.

 

“Not much we can do. Cas can’t heal him—physically or mentally. His mind might recover over time, but it’d take an archangel—maybe Lucifer himself—to break the wards preventing his vocal cords and tongue from being healed,” Dean answered, looking tired and upset. “We gotta focus on the problem we can fix—Lucifer.”

 

“And you got any bright ideas on that front since you’ve banned everyone from speaking of Gabriel?” Bobby asked, obviously irritated. He didn’t like having an ace up his sleeve when he couldn’t use it.

 

“Not yet, but we can’t call that douchebag,” Dean answered firmly. Bobby rolled his eyes. He was too old for this shit.

 

“Yeah, okay, kid. Let’s figure out how to ice the Devil without an archangel on our sides,” Bobby answered with as much passive-aggressiveness that his exceedingly-long-feeling life had developed. Dean ignored it and flipped open a random book. Bobby did the same and they worked in silence together.

 

It was Cas who noticed Sam’s state first. He popped in to find that Sam wasn’t reading after all. He’d been staring blankly at the page for at least an hour, as far as Cas’s observations went. Sam’s thoughts were too quiet for Cas to pick up as well, which worried the angel immensely. If Sam had been held in Hell instead of on Earth, it had been much longer than a month that Lucifer had him. With the uncertain bond and physical disability on top of that, Sam’s entire being was traumatized—body, mind, and soul. There wasn’t much hope of healing any of them if they didn’t get Gabriel back. Sam’s mind wouldn’t be able to heal while his soul’s upset fed the trauma.

 

“Are you enjoying your book, Sam?” Cas asked, letting the sleeve of his coat brush Sam’s arm as he passed him to face him. Sam looked up, smiled, and nodded. It eased a bit of the worry in Cas’s chest. “I believe we should remind Dean and Bobby for the need to eat. They seem to be distracted.”

 

Sam nodded again and got up. His smile was gone, but he still went obediently into the study with Cas, nodding along when he reminded them that it was well-past lunchtime and now approaching dinner.

 

Nobody said anything when Sam played with his salad more than eating it. They didn’t say anything when Dean hardly touched his burger, either. The brothers were soulmates—Sam’s trauma would naturally harm Dean. Bobby didn’t know that it was as deep as that, but he knew the boys were more than a little codependent and that it wouldn’t do any good to press either of them while things were so fresh. Instead, he reminded himself to pick up snacks to leave in front of them. Mindless eating would keep them alive until they got a little better. He knew how to take care of his boys.

 

Cas was just starting to get angry instead of merely concerned. Both of his charges were suffering and that meant his beloved was as well. No, anger was good. Anger caused actions. He would find his brother and confront him about this. That much, he could do.

 

…

 

“You should not have left,” Cas stated as he cornered his brother in a lovely home in Mali, a few dozen miles from Timbuktu.

 

“What else was I supposed to do, Cas? The kid’s traumatized. He didn’t want this bond and I forced it on him. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to or that it’s the only way I could save him. Consent matters,” Gabriel answered tiredly. A moment’s observation assured Cas that Sam wasn’t the only one suffering after all.

 

“He believes the bond is rejected and he will die,” Cas pointed out calmly.

 

“No, he won’t. As soon my Grace finishes recovering, I’ll go get rid of big bro and, since the only way that’s going to happen is if I get iced too, he’ll be fine. A bond broken by death doesn’t kill the one left, not if it’s a partial bond and we haven’t made a full one.”

 

“And if you survive?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Gabriel, you can’t—.”

 

“Don’t even start, Castiel. You would do the same if it was Dean. Besides, I’ve been alive a very long time. I’m tired. Dad doesn’t give a damn about any of us and I’ve enjoyed everything I could on Earth. Now I just want to sleep.”

 

“Then sleep for a few hours, Gabriel. Don’t…kill yourself!”

 

“If you want Sam to live, then I have to die. If I don’t die, both of us will. So fuck off. It’s my life and you don’t have a say in it.”

 

“If you die, Sam will die. _He hasn’t rejected the bond_. He thinks it has been rejected by _you_. He isn’t eating, he’s hardly sleeping—he just sits and stares at the wall and he cries when he knows no one will see him. Even if the rejected bond wouldn’t kill him alone, the pain of it will feed the trauma in his mind until he shatters. He _needs_ you, Gabriel.”

 

“No, he doesn’t. You’re misreading the situation. His intentions were pretty clear when he flinched away from my touch.”

 

“Gabriel…” Cas tried, pausing as an idea formed. He’d probably get smited for his effort, but he had to protect his younger charge. Cas grabbed Gabriel’s shoulder and transported them to Bobby’s living room. “He won’t see us or hear us. Just watch him, Gabriel. He needs you or he’s going to die.”

 

When Gabriel tried to speak, Cas gave him a look that shut him up. If he was going to die by archangelic wrath, he was certainly going to get his point across first.

 

Sam was laying on the couch, his eyes unfocused. The television was on, but it was only static and the younger Winchester obviously wasn’t looking at it anyway. Although it was nearing three, two full plates of food lay on the floor beside him with a glass of juice and an unopened container of cheese crackers. Even his arrangement on the couch looked placed, as though someone had moved him there and tried to make him comfortable. It had only been a few days and he had already ceased responding to anyone. The demon Crowley had even stopped by and slammed some doors to see if the kid would flinch. (He hadn’t.)

 

“Is he…Has he been like this?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

 

“Since yesterday morning, for complete unresponsiveness. It started becoming apparent within hours after you left, however,” Cas answered. Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, looking even worse than he had when Cas had found him.

 

“It shouldn’t be having this effect if he rejected it,” he muttered to himself. Cas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Examine the bond,” he suggested. Gabriel frowned in thought.

 

“If he’s rejected it, he won’t notice,” he murmured to himself. After a moment, he stepped toward the sofa and then knelt carefully around the foods left for the hunter. Carefully, Gabriel reached out to lay his hand on Sam’s chest.

 

The second his hand touched the hunter, Sam blinked and turned, looking directly at Gabriel. Gabriel froze.

 

 _Gabriel_.

 

That was Sam’s voice and it was in Gabriel’s mind. Holy shit.

 

“Hey, Samsquatch. I’m just checking your soul. Cas says you aren’t doing so hot—though you still look as hot as usual,” Gabriel said with as much of a smile as he could. Sam’s lips twitched.

 

 _Dumbass_.

 

“Hey! That was a compliment!” Gabriel protested. Sam smiled more fully and Gabriel returned it. “All right, do you mind if I check out your soul real quick? It won’t hurt and it’ll just take a second.”

 

 _Fine_.

 

“Try to keep your eyes open. The distraction will keep you from feeling discomfort,” Gabriel instructed. Sam nodded and focused on Gabriel’s face.

 

It only took Gabriel a moment to find Sam’s soul with his Grace.

 

It also only took a moment for Sam’s soul to grab onto Gabriel’s Grace like a briar.

 

“Fuck.” Gabriel’s eloquence and wittiness both flew out the window as he toppled forward onto the hunter. Even shredded and darkened by trauma, the soul surrounding him was warm and gentle in its treatment of his core. More than that—it was happy, no, _joyful_ upon seeing him.

 

No. Not seeing him. His Grace was too open from searching for the soul. It was joyful because it was _binding_ with him, more fully and more completely.

 

“Double fuck,” Gabriel murmured into Sam’s chest, from where he’d landed. Sam’s soul would be inconsolable if he refused the bond now—as would his Grace. They had no choice. Once again, Gabriel had taken Sam’s choice away for his own selfish purposes. Sam’s soul didn’t know what it was doing, but Gabriel’s Grace most certainly did.

 

 _Fuck that. I thought you didn’t want this_.

 

“What? Seriously? Why on Earth or Heaven or Hell would you want _this_ with _me_?” Gabriel managed in some surprise. He didn’t move, though. He was pretty sure he could die happy snuggled into his bonded’s chest.

 

 _You’re a fool and a sap_.

 

“You knew that already.” Gabriel let the warmth of Sam’s soul continue washing over him, letting his Grace soothe as many tears in the precious soul as it could. “We’re giving Cas a show.”

 

 _No, we’re not. He popped out before you started_.

 

“That bastard,” Gabriel complained, feeling disproportionately pleased with the low rumble of laughter he felt go through Sam’s chest.

 

 _We should get up. Dean might try to kill you_.

 

“Doubleplusfuck,” Gabriel groaned, snuggling closer to Sam.

 

 _Get up here, then. You can’t be comfortable_.

 

“’kay.”

 

_Are you falling asleep? Seriously?_

 

“It’s been stressful ‘n’ I’m not all the way better. Why d’you think you haven’t been healed yet?”

 

 _Don’t worry about that right now. Just rest. Preferably without crushing my arm the whole time_.

 

“S’rry.”

 

 _Go to sleep. We can deal with everything when we wake up_.

 

…

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

 

“Wassa? Oh. I think Dean saw us, Sambo,” Gabriel remarked, sitting up enough to look for the source of rage radiating into the room.

 

 _No shit, Sherlock_ , Sam agreed in his mind as he sat up, forcing Gabriel all the way up.

 

“Fuck you, Watson,” Gabriel replied under his breath, grinning as the human shook with laughter. At a louder volume, he said, “Mornin’, Dean. How’s it hangin’?”

 

 _Don’t antagonize him_.

 

“You—You---Shut the fuck up, Gabriel! Who gave you the right to waltz back in here? You _left_. You left when we needed you, Gabriel. You’ve got _no right_ to be here,” Dean shouted, his face an ugly mottled red.

 

“I have _every_ right to be here. I left because I thought Sam didn’t want me here—you can understand that, right? I came back because Cas _invited_ me. He said Sam was sick and thought I might be able to help. Turns out Sammy-boy knows just what he wants and he took it when I was checking him, so we’re cool now,” Gabriel answered.

 

“Fuckin’ get away from my brother. He was only sick because of _you_ ,” Dean shot back.

 

“It’s not as simple—. Holy Hell. Calm down, kiddo. What’s wrong?” Gabriel turned to prop Sam up. He had his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight again, beginning to shake.

 

“Look what you did now! Get out of the way, I can handle him,” Dean spat venomously, moving toward the couch.

 

“It’s your yelling that’s hurting him, dumbass. Take another step and Cas’ll be picking you up in the Sahara,” Gabriel said quietly in a neutral tone. Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but he restrained himself. Gabriel put his hand on the center of Sam’s chest and closed his eyes.

 

Sam was remembering torture, that much was obvious. The harder bit was getting his attention and pulling him out of it. Gabriel found Sam in the middle of having his fingernails ripped out, punctuated by Lucifer’s yelling between sets. Since he’d never done this before, Gabriel wasn’t certain how to deal with extracting Sam from his mind.

 

Naturally, he jumped right in. Gabriel grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders and through his brother back away from Sam. Since they were in Sam’s mind with its own laws, he was pretty sure he had to get Sam out of it or else Lucifer might be able to beat him. Gabriel really didn’t want to find out.

 

“Sam, you gotta snap out of it, kiddo. This isn’t real,” Gabriel stated, thankful that Sam’s mind allowed him to heal Sam’s mental self-construct. Sam shook his head, his eyes closed. “Samshine, open your eyes. Please. I can’t get you out if you don’t believe me.”

 

Sam opened his eyes, looking very uncertain and worried, but hopeful.

 

“That’s it, kiddo. C’mere and I’ll get you out of here,” Gabriel soothed, holding his arms open. Sam still looked uncertain, but swayed into Gabriel’s arms nonetheless. Gabriel shot them out of the memory and back into wakefulness in the real world.

 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked gruffly from far closer than he’d been when Gabriel had jumped into Sam’s psyche.

 

Sam nodded, his lips twitching slightly in an attempt to smile.

 

“Are you tired, kiddo? I’d imagine that took quite a lot out of you,” Gabriel suggested quietly. Sam nodded more firmly, sending Gabriel a quick, grateful smile. “Let’s get you to your room, then, kiddo.”

 

 _Stay with me?_ Sam’s voice was shaky, like he wasn’t sure of the answer. Gabriel smiled at him gently as he hefted him off the couch to help him up the stairs.

 

“Dad himself couldn’t keep me from your side if you need me, kiddo.”

 

Half asleep already, Sam’s thoughts drifted into Gabriel’s mind, _I knew it was safe when you called me Samshine. Lucifer didn’t know that one_.

 

Gabriel felt his heart break all over again as he tucked the man into bed.


	14. Fine Again

Chapter 14: Fine Again

 

_And I am aware now of how_

_Everything's gonna be fine one day_

_Too late, I'm in hell_

_I am prepared now_

_Seems everyone's gonna be fine_

_One day too late just as well_

 

…

 

“I’ll handle it. Cas can keep you guys shielded while I’m gone, just in case, and I’ll take care of it,” Gabriel informed Dean and Bobby as he joined their planning stage.

 

“You’ll handle it? You can’t take on your brother alone,” Bobby informed him, irritated at his lack of sense.

 

“That’s the only option we’ve got,” Gabriel returned. “Your little popgun doesn’t work and we don’t know where the Horsemen are—if Luci’s raised all of them yet. That leaves me or another archangel and I don’t see you guys wining and dining Michael or Raphael anytime soon.”

 

“Are you capable of dealing with Lucifer alone like that?” Dean asked. Gabriel shrugged.

 

“I can’t afford _not_ to be.”

 

“Don’t risk yourself if you don’t have to. Sam likes you, poor kid, and losin’ you would kill him. There’s got to be a better plan,” Bobby argued. Gabriel visibly deflated, looking much more tired than he had a moment before.

 

“There isn’t another plan. There’s no one else that would come close—whether on their own or helping me. Dad could do something, but Dad doesn’t do jack shit about the Host wrecking Earth,” he stated.

 

“Have you _asked_ God?” Bobby asked.

 

“I prayed every day since the omens started indicating Armageddon was nigh. Hell, I prayed when Sam and I were stuck in the Void and no magic rainbow appeared to bring us home. Dad doesn’t give a fuck.”

 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said in a disapproving tone as he walked to the seat beside Dean.

 

“It’s true, Cas, whether you want to believe it or not,” Gabriel replied tiredly.

 

“Perhaps something is wrong with prayers—Heaven interfered to generalize them some time during the second century. It may have altered their flow to Father as well,” Cas reasoned. Gabriel rolled his eyes, but stayed silent. Cas turned toward Dean. “Dean, may I borrow your necklace? It holds all the faith of a child in it and it should work to help me track down Father.”

 

“It won’t work, Castiel. You won’t find him,” Gabriel warned. Cas gave him a cold look.

 

“I have faith, Gabriel. Father will answer. He will help,” Cas answered.

 

“We can’t plan on it, though,” Gabriel stressed.

 

“We’ll come up with a plan B,” Bobby assured him.

 

“I thought I was plan B?”

 

“No, you’re plan C for Can-you-believe-an-archangel-is-that-stupid?”

 

“You could just say plan D for dumbass.”

 

“Crowley, when did you get here?”

 

“Oh, early enough to hear feathers-the-giraffe and feathers-the-pagan arguing over whether or not God cares. I’m team short feathers, as far as that goes. It’s fairly clear He doesn’t care.”

 

“Short feathers? Seriously? That’s the nickname I get?” Gabriel whined.

 

“I could leave it at dumbass, if you’d like.” Bobby rolled his eyes as the archangel started laughing at Crowley’s comment.

 

“Oh, where did you find this one, Bobby? I like this one. Crowley, you said?”

 

“Yeah, that’s his name. Found him at an auction. He’s good to keep around.”

 

“Careful with your flattery, Robert. It’ll get you everywhere.”

 

“Dude, gross! Bobby, you got some holy water around here?”

 

“Enough. How the Hell did my house get full of so many goddamn children?”

 

“It’s all your paternal instincts, the same reason you seek out mature company with which to spend your spare time.”

 

“I’ll let the boy get the holy water if you don’t stop tryin’ to mark your territory with all the flirtin’.”

 

“Anything for you, darling.”

 

“Dean, the flask is in the second cabinet from the left.”

 

…

 

“Okay, we’re going on a little trip. We’ll be back tomorrow,” Gabriel announced as he and Sam entered the living room. At Sam’s curious expression, he merely winked. “I’ll even bring back pie.”

 

“Gabriel, you can’t just—.” Dean’s voice cut off as Gabriel transported himself and Sam to another location. It was a quiet office full of houseplants.

 

 _Where are we? Not to complain, but I figured you’d take me somewhere nice if you were kidnapping me_.

 

The door behind the desk opened before Gabriel could answer.

 

“Gabriel, it’s good to see you. Is this the friend you told me about?” a short, dark-skinned blonde asked.

 

“Yes, this is Sam. Sam, this is Beaivi,” Gabriel introduced. The woman stepped forward and offered her hand.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam. Has Gabriel explained why he’s brought you here?” she asked. Sam shook his head. “Would you like to explain, Gabriel?”

 

“Samshine, Beaivi’s a goddess and a good friend of mine. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of her, but she’s a sun deity. She brought spring forth after the dark winter in the region of Fennoscandia and acted as a fertility goddess there. Although she’s already exceptional for all of that, she’s also a goddess with particular interest in those who aren’t in perfect mental health. She works to heal psychoses and depression—she’s a certified psychiatrist, too, so don’t worry about qualifications. I thought maybe she could help you,” Gabriel explained, his hand twitching in Sam’s.

 

_You…You took me to a psychiatrist?_

 

“She’s a friend, Sambo, and I can’t…I don’t have the expertise needed to help you cope with your trauma. I wanted to help, but all I can do is support you. Beaivi should be able to actually help,” Gabriel explained.

 

“And we will move at your pace, Sam. If this is enough for today, we can do more tomorrow. Gabriel hasn’t told me much, but I can see that your soul is damaged and I can assure you that healing is possible if you let me help,” Beaivi assured Sam. Sam chewed on his lower lip, debating his options.

 

_You’ll stay with me?_

 

“If you want me to, sure, Samshine. I can stay,” Gabriel promised, squeezing his hand. Sam hesitated another moment before nodding.  Beaivi smiled.

 

“In that case, if you two would follow me to the room, we can begin.”

 

…

 

“Cas, man, I don’t want to upset you, but you look pretty down. Maybe you should take a nap or somethin’,” Dean suggested as Cas popped into the passenger seat of the Impala.

 

“I am fine, Dean. What are you doing?” Cas asked.

 

“Pickin’ up some burgers. Gabriel’d normally snap dinner in, but he’s off with Sam somewhere again and said they’d be starving when they got back,” Dean answered easily. With Cas at his side and his brother smiling again, he was feeling pretty good—Apocalypse be damned. “I’ll grab an extra one for you, so you’ve gotta stay for dinner at least.”

 

“I do not require ‘dinner,’” Cas answered with a slight frown. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“It wasn’t about ‘requiring’ it—you’ve gotta stay. Besides, it’s team bonding time,” he answered, hoping to appeal to Cas’s military sense.

 

“Promoting team bonding is important and I will stay for dinner if that is typical,” Cas agreed. After a moment, he added, “In Heaven, Fling the Fledgling was quite popular to build initial trust.”

 

“Fling the—aren’t fledglings baby angels or some shit?” Dean asked.

 

“Yes. One of the higher angels—I have no proof it was Gabriel, but it is commonly believed to have been him—indicated that learning to fly and building trust in our siblings could be done simultaneously. As such, we would meet in one of the fields of Heaven and older angels would take fledglings and fling them at each other as fast as possible, after instructing the fledgling to prevent the other from catching them. It was…interesting.”

 

“You mean older angels would just _throw_ babies? That’s sick as Hell, man!”

 

“The fledglings were perfectly safe. Most viewed is as a game more than a bonding experience, although it did form strong bonds of trust within future garrisons.”

 

“That still sounds sick. Throwing babies definitely sounds like something Gabriel would come up with.”

 

“Are you still angry at Gabriel?”

 

“No….Okay, a little. He messed Sam up and left and then we were just supposed to treat him like a fuckin’ god when he came back? Just because he’s our best chance at ganking the Devil doesn’t mean we can’t replace him.”

 

“He left because he believed Sam did not want him present. He was little better than Sam when I found him. Incomplete bonds can make mates…oversensitive.”

 

“Then he shouldn’t have started the bond if he didn’t mean to finish it!”

 

“Dean, he said it was not intentional. They were scared and alone—Gabriel only wanted to return your brother to freedom on Earth.”

 

“Whatever, man. I’ll be back.” If Dean shut the car door with more force than necessary when he left to enter the diner, Cas didn’t comment on it. He had the distinct feeling that Dean’s anger stemmed from potential hurt—that he was worried Sam would abandon him now that he had an archangel by his side. His soulmate had a new mate and that was bound to cause some problems for Dean, especially since he couldn’t talk to Sam easily given his brother’s mute state.

 

Cas sent up a prayer to his brother to make sure he and the younger Winchester would be at Bobby’s at dinner. He needed to stop his brother from kidnapping Sam so much so Dean could adjust. The last thing they needed was another soul-sick hunter on their hands when they had Lucifer to face.

 

…

 

It was nearly three in the morning when Gabriel crept downstairs at Bobby’s. It was his chance—all of the hunters were asleep and, somehow, Dean had convinced Cas to take a nap. Gabriel had already taken Sam’s phone to snap some pictures of Dean and Cas sleeping together on the couch, just so the youngest hunter would have something to smile about when he woke up.

 

Dad knew the kid probably wasn’t going to be smiling for much longer in the morning. At least Gabriel knew the kid had a therapist to go to, for what little help it would be.

 

When Cas had fallen asleep, Gabriel saw his chance. A quick snap ensured none of them would wake ‘til morning, enabling him to sneak out to seek his destiny. Sam would never heal completely until Lucifer was no longer a threat. Even with Gabriel soothing him, the hunter’s sleep had been troubled and Gabriel knew it would be until he got rid of the threat to his mate.

 

So he was going to do it. Get rid of the threat. Kill his brother.

 

He was reaching for the handle on the kitchen door when a voice spoke up.

 

“You’re worth more than your sacrifice, you know.”

 

Gabriel turned around to see the demon Crowley leaning against the island.

 

“It’s the only way to get rid of him. We don’t have other options,” Gabriel replied quietly. The demon just looked at him silently, glancing once toward the hall stairs. Gabriel saw that, despite being a demon, Crowley really did love this place and cared about the people—or at least one of them—in it and that he understood where Gabriel was coming from.

 

“Could you…If the spell Lucifer has on Sam isn’t broken when it’s over, could you help Cas get rid of it? It should be weak enough once his power isn’t fueling it. The kid needs his voice—how would he keep his hotheaded brother in check without it?” Gabriel asked, lips twitching in a smile. The demon shook his head and Gabriel’s smile faltered.

 

“Come back and do it yourself. Kid’s going to have more problems than a missing voice if you don’t come back, darling,” he answered.

 

“Please? If I…If I don’t?” Gabriel tried again. Crowley rolled his eyes.

 

“I doubt the giraffe would let me get out of it if it came to mind.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Go save the world. I’ll keep watch until Castiel wakes up.”

 

…

 

It took Gabriel the better part of an hour to track down Lucifer. Then it took him a good twenty minutes to work through a panic attack before he could come up with a plan. This was it—the big showdown—the end of an archangel (or two). Gabriel only hoped he’d at least take his brother out first.

 

_Father, it’s me, Gabriel. I know we haven’t exactly been eye-to-eye the last few millennia, but I’d be grateful if you at least hear me out now. I’m sorry I ran away—not in the ‘I wouldn’t do it again’ sense, but in the ‘I sorrow for your pain’ sense because I know it upset you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat—Luci and Mike fighting was too much and you weren’t stopping them and I didn’t know what else to do._

_I probably could’ve done a lot of other things, though._

_But, Father, that’s all behind us now, right? I’m doing what you’d want now—helping the humans, using free will. That’s what it was about all along, right? Well, humans are little pests—they’re gross and short-lived and violent, but, Dad, I couldn’t help but love them. They’re so much brighter than the angels and they can be so kind and love so deeply, even when they’ve been hurt. The pagans are pretty cool too—you would’ve_ loved _Ase, y’know? She was just your sort—inquisitive, gentle and precocious. She was impossible to keep out of anything. Just like a human._

_That’s why I’m here now, of course. That giant clusterfuck of a human named Sam Winchester. Did you know I’d love him, Dad? Did you plan the end this way? I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll succeed if you want me to or I’ll fail if you don’t. If you’re interfering at all, anyway._

_I’m rambling and I know it. Sorry. It’s just that I’m scared, Dad. That’s my big brother I’m about to face. It doesn’t matter though—I’ll do it for him, for them. The humans deserve more time for their own path first—I mean, corn syrup’s been around two centuries and the poor things need more time to invent better sweets before they face Paradise or Destruction, y’know?_

_Rambling again, sorry._

_Anyway, Dad, what I really want to ask is this—Can you make sure Sambo’s okay after all this? I call him Samshine ‘cause he lights up my Grace in ways I’d never imagined and the world’ll need his lightness just as much after I’m gone. Just, make sure he’s okay? And that he knows he’s loved?_

_I should stop. I need to go and do this or else all these words’ll have been for nothing. Thanks for giving me such a long go of it, Dad. Some of it was fun_.

 

Gabriel opened his eyes as his prayer ended, swallowing as he drew his blade into his left hand, hefting his sword in his right. He felt their weight, relearning how to handle them. He always was better at dagger and rapier than two-handing a greatsword. Speed and a bit of trickery made it work. He just hoped it would work this time. With a sigh, he put the weapons away and transported himself into the building.

 

“Luci, I’m home!” he singsonged as he popped into existence. Lucifer looked up from the demon he was devouring and smiled.

 

“Gabriel. I was wondering when I would see you,” he stated calmly, staying knelt down to finish off the demon’s blood before he stood. “How’s my precious vessel doing? I know he didn’t die or his body would’ve been left behind.”

 

“He’s doing pretty good for a kid that went through the Shadows and survived the Void. Tough kid,” Gabriel answered, allowing the smalltalk as Lucifer sized him up. It wasn’t going to matter much. Lucifer snorted.

 

“He was weak for me. He begs prettily. You should’ve heard his screams when I pulled his ribs from his chest one by one. It’s incredible the variations in sound he can make,” he said, clearly trying to throw Gabriel off. Gabriel tried to let the words roll over him, but his back stiffened nonetheless. His brother would _never_ hurt his mate again.

 

“Enough chitchat, dontcha think? You know why I’m here,” Gabriel stated, summoning his blade and sword. Lucifer sighed like he was the most put upon being in existence as he did the same.

 

“It doesn’t have to be you, brother. It’s supposed to be Michael.”

 

“Can’t let my big brothers get the glory all the time, can I?”

 

“No, I suppose not.”


	15. Learning to Fly

Chapter 15: Learning to Fly

 

_Well I started out down a dirty road_

_Started out all alone_

_And the sun went down as I crossed the hill_

_And the town lit up, the world got still_

_I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings_

_Coming down is the hardest thing_

_Well the good ol' days may not return_

_And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn_

 

…

 

Castiel wasn’t the first one to wake up. That was Sam—he’d jumped out of bed just after four and raced downstairs like a Hellhound was on his trail. He stopped in the kitchen doorway, breathing heavily, when he spotted Crowley. Crowley saw the bright, frightened knowledge in the kid’s eyes and conjured another glass of scotch, sliding it toward him.

 

“Sorry, Moose, but it’s too late now. He’s gone,” the demon said. The hunter’s breath stopped for somewhere around three seconds, making the beginnings of worry form in the demon’s mind, before the hunter turned around and ran back up the stairs. The hunter crashed down the stairs again moments later and Crowley sighed, getting up to see what ruckus the kid was raising.

 

So it was, that, at nearly four-thirty in the morning, a council of hunters, a demon, and an angel met grumpily in the living room of one Bobby Singer.

 

Sam was gesticulating wildly at the other four, trying to get his point across.

 

“Hey, where’s Gabriel?” Dean grumbled, not used to the signing. Sam made increasingly violent signs to indicate that was the point. “He’s not here, you’re freaking out—holy shit! The douchebag didn’t leave again, did he? I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

 

“Only if Lucifer doesn’t kill him first,” Crowley pointed out quietly. Every eye turned to him. “He’s probably fighting him now. He’s been gone over an hour.”

 

“And you didn’t think to wake anyone up?” Bobby demanded as Dean let out a long string of curses.

 

“He left a spell on the house to keep you asleep until morning—apparently Moose broke it.”

 

“And you, what? Just let him go?” Bobby spat. Crowley shrugged.

 

“I want the world to keep spinning and he can keep it that way. He asked me to watch all of you until Castiel woke.”

 

“Holy fuckin’ hell, man! We gotta do something! Lucifer’s gonna beat his ass! Cas, can you track him?” Dean demanded, going into fight mode instantly. Cas started to answer him when a small sound brought all of their attention back to Sam. Sam was pale, his shoe scuffing the ground as he stepped back.

 

“Sammy? Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked, turning to grab his brother’s arms.

 

“It’ll be okay, Sam. We’ll get the idjit before something happens,” Bobby soothed as best he could.

 

“As much as I hate to cut this short, gentlemen, I’m afraid I have another engagement to att—.”

 

“You leave now, you don’t ever walk through that door again. Family don’t flee at the first sign of trouble,” Bobby growled, interrupting the demon.

 

“I won’t be going anywhere ever again if you’re bringing out _that_ voice, darling,” Crowley purred with a wink. Bobby rolled his eyes.

 

“Cas, can you follow your brother or not?” he asked, turning toward the angel.  After a moment, Castiel nodded.

 

“Yes, I can sense his path. Do you have weapons to gather?” Cas asked. Dean went to gather them, letting Crowley help carry them, while Bobby stayed with Sam, who was hyperventilating.

 

“It’ll be all right, Sam. We’ll get him back, y’hear? The Devil can’t beat all of us at once—you know that,” Bobby soothed. Sam focused on Bobby’s face and started copying his breaths. “There ya go, kid. Just breathe.”

 

“We’ve got everything,” Dean announced as he and the demon reentered the room. Everyone looked at each other before nodding at Cas. “We’re ready.”

 

…

 

It wasn’t like the paintings. There weren’t serene faces of divine judgement or twisted faces of eternal torment.

 

Instead, there were the heartbrokenly determined faces of two brothers who loved each other even as they knew they had to kill each other. Lucifer and Gabriel were decently matched since Gabriel had chosen one of his better fighting styles and both of them kept quietly giving each other outs, ways to end the fight without spilling Grace. Neither took them, of course—Lucifer wanted his Hell on Earth, Gabriel wanted his mate safe as it was. Neither could give up.

 

“Hey assbutt!”

 

Castiel’s shout made them both turn, Lucifer in anger and Gabriel in fear. Gabriel’s worst fears were confirmed instantly—the whole gang was here.

 

 _Get them back out of here now, Castiel!_ Gabriel shot the thought straight into Castiel’s Grace, not wasting time on words, but the seraph ignored him. Gabriel watched almost in slow motion as a bottle flew from Castiel’s hand straight toward Lucifer. Lucifer blinked and the bottle exploded before reaching him.

 

“Did you just try to Molotov me with holy oil, Castiel?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Uh, no?” Cas answered. Lucifer looked ready to respond with the equivalent of an archangelic Molotov bread basket, so Gabriel whistled to bring the attention back to himself.

 

“Looks like my backup’s here in case I fall. Whatdya think, Luci? Ready to give up and go back to time out?” Gabriel asked much more lightly than he felt.

 

“Never. I will never go to the Cage again,” Lucifer growled. Gabriel shrugged and threw himself forward against his brother.

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

_YOU FUCKING IDIOTIC BASTARD!_

Gabriel flinched. He was wondering how long Sam’s silence would last.

 

_You sneak out in the middle of the FUCKING NIGHT to go take on Lucifer ALONE? What the hell, Gabriel?_

 

“Kinda busy at the mo’, Samshine,” Gabriel singsonged as he fought, throwing a glance at the younger Winchester. Lucifer followed his gaze and the Devil’s eyes narrowed before he inhaled sharply and attacked Gabriel with renewed fervor.

 

“You _bonded_ with my _vessel_?” he screeched. Fuck. Double fuck.

 

“What can I saw, Luci? Have you _seen_ that bod?” Gabriel answered jokingly. Lucifer growled and somehow managed to twist his dagger to make Gabriel drop his, leaving him only with his sword. Doubleplusfuck. This was gonna end _badly_.

 

“He. Is. Mine,” the Devil growled as he pushed Gabriel back further. The smaller archangel lost his balance and barely brought his sword up in time to catch the killing blow. “Now, die!”

 

There was nothing Gabriel could do. It was taking all the strength in both arms to keep his sword up, blocking all of Lucifer’s weight and power bearing down on him. He couldn’t do a thing about the dagger coming toward his chest. He closed his eyes.

 

 _I’m sorry, Sam_.

 

…

 

 _Oh, no, you’re fucking not. Not yet!_ Sam’s thoughts shot at Gabriel like an arrow as the hunter rushed at the archangels. As soon as he knocked Lucifer off to the side and the Devil pinned him with a surprised look, Sam realized he’d made a mistake. A very, very big mistake. He just entered an archangelic swordfight as a human without a sword. _Fuck_.

 

“What the hell was that, kiddo?” Gabriel demanded as he rolled to his feet, coming between Lucifer and Sam. “Get the hell back. Now!”

 

Sam saw Gabriel’s dagger and grinned.

 

 _Nope. We’ll beat him together_. Sam dove for the dagger and came back up to Gabriel’s side in half a second. Lucifer was still watching in disbelief. _He can’t take us both._

 

“Not to burst your bubble or anything here, Samshine, but drugs are _fucking bad for you_ ,” Gabriel hissed under his breath. Sam smiled and stepped forward, ready to fight. After a moment, Lucifer began to laugh.

 

“Please. You may be my vessel, Sam, but what human could possibly stand a chance against the Devil? Go back to the sidelines and let Daddy and Uncle Gabe settle this.” The words were cold as Lucifer began approaching. “Better hurry, Sam. You won’t get the chance to flee once our blades cross.”

 

 _Go high and to the right when he comes at us. I’ll go low and to the left. He can’t block us both_.

 

“For Dad’s sake, how do I get myself into trouble of this magnitude?” Gabriel muttered in response, making Sam smile.

 

It was a testament to Lucifer’s skill that he managed to keep them both at bay regardless of the directions they took. A few more turns and Gabriel’s heart was sinking. Lucifer would win and he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

The two fell back toward where Bobby, Dean, Cas, and Crowley were fighting off the few demons that kept popping up. Gabriel saw a flash of tan nearby and saw Cas suddenly stand very straight.

 

 _Fling the Fledgling. I have another holy fire Molotov, esiasch. It would distract long enough for you to defeat him_ , Cas prayed to Gabriel. Fling the Fledgling. Esiasch—brother. Cas trusted him.

 

 _We’ve only got one shot, little one. Are you sure you want to do this?_ Gabriel sent the prayer back without faltering in his fight with Lucifer, working to keep himself close to the seraph.

 

 _I am certain, esiasch_. Well, that was that, then. If Cas wanted to play and maybe save their lives, who was he to judge?

 

 _Sam, hold him back for a few seconds and then jump back as far as you can. This is gonna be messy_. Gabriel sent the thought through their open bond, waiting for Sam’s slight glance in his direction before he vanished his sword and reached behind him.

 

Seeing Gabriel’s short frame lift Castiel over his head would’ve probably been comical any other time. Especially when he proceeded to throw the trenchcoated man as hard as he could toward Lucifer, staying hot on his heels.  The Molotov was released and Cas continued safely past. Gabriel followed as the bottle fell, seeing Sam mirror his movements across from him. He knew that Sam would be unharmed by the holy fire, but he knew he wouldn’t be. He tucked his unseen wings closer to his back to shield himself and prayed Father would save his beloved.

 

An explosion of light and sound kept everyone from seeing the results.

 

It was silent after a moment. Silent and dark.

 

Then the ringing started. And the shaking. Dad, but the shaking was something awful. Was there an earthquake? The rumbling Gabriel was hearing now seemed to indicate there may be an earthquake after all. Gabriel kept shaking as the sound continued, vaguely aware of his body shifting.

 

 _Gabriel_. A single word and all his attention was directed to the source. _Gabriel, open your eyes._

 

Gabriel didn’t know how to open his eyes. How could he, when the world was shaking apart? Gabriel retreated further into his thoughts, letting his consciousness swim among memories instead of the present.

 

He jumped when a hand touched his.

 

“Where are we?” Sam asked softly, looking around the memory.

 

“Heaven. Eden.” Gabriel held onto Sam’s hand tightly.

 

“It’s peaceful.”

 

“Yes.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment or a lifetime.

 

“Will you come back with me now?”

 

“I’m scared.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“Of what’s waiting.”

 

“I’ll be with you.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“God himself couldn’t keep me away.”


	16. Epilogue: Love is Stronger than Death

Love is Stronger than Death

 

_Awoken by grief, our spirits speak_

_"How could you believe that the life within the seed_

_that grew arms that reached_

_And a heart that beat._

_And lips that smiled_

_And eyes that cried_

_Could ever die?"_

 

 _I’d watch what you say if I were you_. The words giggled into his mind—not said at all, the meaning somehow clear from a girl’s giggle. Gabriel and Sam both frowned, looking around the Garden. After a moment, a smiling face dropped in front of them.

 

“Ase?” they asked at the same time. The woman giggled again, leaning into their hands when they reached out to steady her.

 

“Hello, little brother, hello, Gabriel,” she greeted. “I was sent to bring a message.”

 

“Bring a message? From who? Are you really alive?” Gabriel asked quickly. Ase smiled at him softly, grabbing one of his hand with hers and one of Sam’s with her other.

 

“I’ll answer in the opposite order—I’m alive enough to visit, from God, and, yes, a message.” She pursed her lips after they remained silent. “C’mon, no more questions, honeysweets?”

 

“We’re just…overwhelmed. You were gone,” Sam managed. Ase smiled, taking the remark in stride.

 

“Yes, I was. Lilith killed me and then my body was gone too, but God had use for me and he gave me a consciousness.”

 

“What—what use, cupcake?” Gabriel asked, feeling choked up. She was still alive, in some form.

 

“Well, God heard your prayer and thought I sounded perfect to fill in for someone on vacation, so I’m the new Messenger. He said something about precocious smartasses being the best at the job.”

 

Gabriel chuckled. “Did he, now? Are you enjoying it, lollipop?”

 

“Very much. I should hurry up with the message, though—you’re needed back on the Outside, even though it’s nice Inside, here in the Garden. Anyway, God wants you to know that he’s very proud of you—both of you, and your family Outside too. Lucifer isn’t dead, but God has him and we’re going to go up to Heaven to fix things. God wants you to know that you’re welcome to help when you’re ready, Gabriel, but that you shouldn’t neglect your mate. I’ll be a great Messenger, so you don’t need to worry.”

 

“Dad’s back in Heaven?”

 

“Sure thing, sugarpop. Don’t worry, though—nothing changed up there will negatively impact Earth. Free Will reigns supreme on Earth, as it should be.” Ase’s bright smile faltered just a little as she fiddled with their hands with her tiny ones. “Anyway, I don’t have much time right now—there’s lots of messages with all that’s going on. I just wanted to say a thing or two too.

 

“First of all, thank you. You were both kind to me and I’m grateful—I know I can be sorta annoying. Secondly, I don’t mind that you were using my body, Gabriel. I was born to be your vessel in life and Heaven’s secondary Messenger in death, so it belonged to you anyway. I’m glad the two of you didn’t let that keep you from growing close, though. God was hoping you two would work out, but of course he didn’t know what you would choose, especially after the loss of me, ‘cause I’m pretty awesome.

 

“Speaking of awesome, God kinda likes grandkids and you’ve got my full permission to use my old body as vessel to carry a couple, if you decide you want kids. No pressure, just know that the option’s there. You’ll find it under the ash tree, but you should definitely modify it however you want for daily use. You’re pretty attached to your Loki face.

 

“I really, really ought to get going, though. I’ve got _tons_ of messages to share and plenty of angels to prank. So, good-bye, sweets. I’m sure I’ll bring messages to you guys again. In the meantime, though, don’t forget—make sure little brother gets his desserts.”

 

With a quick wink, Heaven’s new Messenger disappeared. Sam and Gabriel blinked at each other before Gabriel burst out laughing.

 

“Let’s go back Outside now.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Samshine, I hear ya.”

 

…

 

The shaking was because of the damage to Gabriel’s vessel. It was too far destroyed, but a quick pop to Bobby’s saw Gabriel into his perfect vessel, modified to look like his old one. Ase was right. He was attached to his Loki face.

 

“Well, Lucifer’s gone, God’s back, and the world’s safe. It’s time for some beer,” Dean announced as he plopped down onto Bobby’s couch. He offered Gabriel a sheepish smile. “Help a guy out?”

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and snapped. The room now had plenty of everyone’s alcohol preferences available—after all, they deserved to get a little shitfaced after all their trouble. Tomorrow would come with new trouble, for sure, but they’d survived today’s, they were all alive, and Beaivi was taking new clients if anyone besides Sam and Gabriel decided they could use some help too.

 

“I take it I’m forgiven, Deanny boy?” Gabriel teased as he plopped into a chair he’d snapped up. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re on probation—keep up the good behavior and you’ll be off the hook,” Dean grumbled. Gabriel laughed and motioned Sam over.

 

“Before we all drink ourselves out of our minds, I’d better fix that voice of yours, huh?” Gabriel asked. Sam shrugged. The world was safe and there was no rush right now. He sat down next to Gabriel and Gabriel leaned close to whisper, “When we get up to some fun activities later, I’d really like to hear your reactions. If you don’t want your voice back ‘til then, I can arrange that.”

 

 _Fuckhead_ , Sam thought at Gabriel. Gabriel chuckled and kissed his cheek.

 

“Love you too, Samshine. Now, then, let’s get this over with.” Carefully, Gabriel placed one hand over Sam’s throat and the other over his mouth. A few seconds later, he dropped them and grinned brightly. “Heya, Samshine.”

 

“Hey.” Sam’s voice was a little rough, like it hadn’t been used for awhile, but the brightness of Gabriel’s smile made it more than worth the effort.

 

“Looks like everyone’s done pairin’ off in here,” Bobby remarked from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was impassable, but his eyes were twinkling as he took in Cas and Dean on the couch and Gabriel and Sam in the new chair. Crowley popped into existence in Bobby’s chair and grinned wickedly.

 

“You should join, Robert. There’s one seat left,” the demon offered, looking pointedly at the arm of the chair he was in. Bobby hesitated before Gabriel spoke up.

 

“Bobby, don’t worry about it—there’s some Asgardian mead mixed in with the rest of this shit. None of us are going to remember today anyway.”

 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Bobby grumbled before goodnaturedly removing the demon from his chair long enough to sit down. Crowley perched on the arm of his chair and grinned like the demon he was.

 

“Cheers!” Gabriel toasted as he snapped a drink into everyone’s hand, his own lifted high. No matter what tomorrow brought, they’d done good. All of them.

 

…

 

“Shit!”

 

“Wha?”

 

“We forgo’ the spell and my Ho—Hor—my Whore! To fight Luci!”

 

“Hello again, sugarplum. God wants you to know that a) they wouldn’t have worked, b) he has a video recording of you threatening to fight Lucifer with your whore, and c) it’s time for a nap now. You’re exhausted and you need to rest up—just because you won’t be getting a message from God in awhile doesn’t mean you won’t be finding trouble. Good night!”

 

“Magic ghost! Holy shit!”

 

“Time f’r sleep, Gabe.”

 

“Disappeared!”

 

“So d’you.”

 

“ _Whoose_.”

 

“Sleepytime.”

 

“’kay. Love ‘ou Sam— _hic_ —shine.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

“Bobby, darling, have you seen the mead?”

 

“I found the mead. And I drank it.”

 

“Pillow’s not tal’, Cas.”

 

“Not a pillow.”

 

“ _Shush_! Snuggly pillow.”

 

“Idjits.”


End file.
